


our current may be strong, but we are only one in a vast ocean

by LucykomTrigedakru



Category: The 100 (TV Show)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Drama and Romance, F/F, Flashbacks, Injury, Major Character Injury, Major character death - Freeform, Minor Original Character(s), Polis, Post-Canon, Prequel, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Violence, War, if you want fluff you're in the wrong place, lexa is the little sister, plot divergence, polis fic, the death toll is getting quite high, there's some but don't expect a fluff fest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4467887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucykomTrigedakru/pseuds/LucykomTrigedakru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Some are born great and some have greatness thrust upon them, whilst others achieve no such greatness.”</p><p>In the turbulent world of the Grounder clans, of political conflict and seemingly endless bloodshed, choices and deeds of right and wrong are not so black and white. As the next in line to ascend as Heda, Leksa kom Trikru should know this better than anyone. But, Lexa is still ignorant in her youth, and it takes an albeit chance encounter with the brash blacksmith's daughter, Costia, to open her eyes to the brutal realities of the current Heda’s thirst for violence and its consequences for the everyday people. In their eventual befriending and so much more a seed is planted; a vision for peace and an end to the years of fighting, but in Lexa’s trailblazing attempt to unite the clans she must also learn another very important lesson about leadership:</p><p>Victory, especially lasting victory, never comes without a cost. </p><p>We all know how Lexa and Costia’s story ends, but what about the rest?</p><p>---</p><p>Contains major inaccuracies regarding Grounder culture as this was written before Season 3 aired (what a mess that was). Something to bare in mind!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. even upon first sight, I saw a different sort of fight in her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jude81](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jude81/gifts), [Chrmdpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrmdpoet/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just something to note in advance, this is going to be one hell of a slow burn. But stick with me, for patience is a virtue.

Lexa of the Trigedakru, or _juvaiheda_  as most now addressed her, had visited the capital, Polis, only a handful of times before, in times where she was unplagued by the weight of expectation and responsibility. Now, however, she looked at the city differently; this was to be _her_ city, _her_ people. And yet, when she voiced these thoughts to Anya, her trusted mentor, the older woman scolded her.

“Do not use the future tense, _juvaiheda_. You must consider this place as your own now, and these your people _now_. You do not know when you will ascend to your position as _Heda_ ; it could be tomorrow, or it may not be for many years. Either way you must be ready without a second thought or the need for transition. Do you understand, _Leksa_?”

She found it a comfort for Anya to address her by her given name, rather than her title. The present was a daunting time, and with the ever escalating political unease between the clans Anya's training had intensified easily three-fold, if not more. With this in mind, Lexa was forced to adopt a stern, level-headed, countenance as she was guided though the metropolis of Polis, in its fusioned glory of metal, wood and stone upon the summit of the tallest mount on this side of the snowy mountains. She could not appear to be weak, in any sense of the word, although she did have to put in a little more effort than she would have liked to stride confidently without tripping over her coat; it was too big for her. 

Despite the tension between her shoulders, her senses continued to be mesmerised by the colours that flashed in every direction; fresh flowers and their sweet aromas, newly dyed cloth and delicately hand crafted ornaments. She could almost hear the city’s heart drum in sync with her own as she walked through the streets, flanked by Anya and her guard, Gustus, a giant of a man, heavily tattooed and shoulders as wide as two of her. 

After some mixed reactions to her presence in the street, eventually they reached the blacksmith’s hallow, hidden away in a quieter corner of the capital. The first thing that hit Lexa as she stepped inside the forge was the stifling heat, of the suffocating sort, the way a villainous prince may smother his father’s face with a pillow until his lungs were starved of oxygen, so the throne was now empty for his taking.

Anya announced their presence loudly, so that it may be heard over the rhythmic tinging of a moulding stone and the hissing of cool water as it hit metal fresh from the blacksmith’s flame. From out of the trio’s sight came the utterance of a low curse, the scurrying of soles against the dusty floor and then a distinctly female voice asking them to wait a moment.

  
A few seconds later the owner of the voice came into view, and, needless to say, the girl who stood in front of her made her momentarily forget why she was there.

The girl pushed her dark locks out of her face with a soot smudged hand, so Lexa could see the outlines her untensed biceps. It was at this point she also observed the simple attire of the girl, who couldn’t have been much older than herself, which was appropriate for tiring work she took pride in doing- her pants were slim fitting and almost black in colour, a hue not to dissimilar to her hair. These were tucked into study, yet dusty and well worn-looking, boots which stopped about half-way up her calf. On her top half she wore a lopsided sleeveless garment, faded grey in colour like a moon that shone from behind the dark clouds that obscured it, which revealed a defined collar bone. The young second couldn’t help but wonder whether the girl had slipped this on hurriedly after Anya announced her arrival, for, if as far from the flames were as hot as this, she wouldn’t have been able to withstand the heat in much clothing either.

As she bowed respectfully once she approached no further and, as she looked up, Lexa caught a glimpse of the girl’s eyes- an intense dark blue in colour, streaked with grey - which hinted at a previous wildness that had since been tamed.

In essence, she was not quite sure what to make of the blacksmith’s daughter, who smiled fondly at Gustus, albeit briefly, before addressing her.

“Is there something which I may assist you with, _juvaiheda_?” the girl asked, in accented Trigedasleng. 

“We’re looking for your _nontu_ , _Kostia_ ,” Anya told her in the same tongue and with a familiar formality, by which she assumed that the pair were already acquainted. As for Gustus, she wondered if he and the girl, Costia, were related- because for all his valuable guidance and protection she knew little, if not nothing, of the man’s family and there was something about the shape of their eyes that was startling similar. 

“ _Nontu_ is away on business at present, and it is uncertain when he will return,” Costia replied. 

There was a pause and a quiet sigh of frustration escaped from Anya’s lips. Costia picked up on this, and Lexa found herself surprised by the girl’s following response.

“If it is a matter of urgency, I will be able to help.”

Anya replied without a trace of hesitation.

“With all due respect, _Kostia_ , we seek the expertise of your _nontu_. A request from _juvaiheda_ is one for only the most skilled of hands.”

Costia folded her arms across her chest in a sort of defiance, and Lexa thought she saw Gustus roll his eyes from the corner of her own.

“And what sort of request will you be making, _juvaiheda?”_

Now that Costia had addressed her directly, Lexa realised that she hadn’t uttered a word since she’d strode into her workplace. And needless to say, the first words she spoke to the girl weren’t exactly the memorable sort.

“A sword,” she replied simply, after the small delay in which her brain had to remind her how to talk.

Costia nodded, the cogs of intelligence churning behind her eyes. Lexa couldn’t help but notice the hints of gold in the girl’s dark irises, like their pigment had been swirled in amber.

“ _Kostia, Onya_ clearly said…” Gustus began, before her was cut off.

“ _Shof op, Oncl._  I understand that.”

Lexa was shocked by the directness of her words, but her address informed her that Gustus was her uncle, though it soon became clear that Anya was not impressed with her attitude.

 _“Gada,_ you are not to address a superior guard with such rudeness. I do not care that he is your _Oncl.”_

Costia sighed, but did not appear too put off by the woman’s scolding.

“I was only going to say that, surely, I can at least aid in the early proceedings, so all it ready for _Nontu’s_ return. Swiftness is key here, _sha_?”

Eventually Anya agreed, with some reluctance and chiefly because she knew Costia wouldn't have taken no for an answer.

Costia faced Lexa again, this time her arms unfolded.

“Do you have any preferences, _juvaiheda?_ Curved, straight, leather of metal handle? Perhaps wooden?”

She observed how animated Costia was in her speech when she wasn’t frustrated, using both hands as she spoke.

The words that next escaped Lexa’s followed along the very intelligent lines of:

“Erm…”

  
She felt a blush flush her cheeks, which Gustus and Anya appeared to notice by the look they gave each other, teasing the _juvaiheda_ , but, Costia on the other hand, either didn’t notice or chose not to pay attention to it.

Costia waved her hand dismissively.

“No matter. It may not be clear at present what suits you best, though it can be judged. If you wouldn’t mind stepping forward _beja, juvaiheda_.”

Lexa did as she was asked without question, and found herself standing awkwardly under Costia’s critical gaze and staring at the floor, nervous she might be caught getting lost in her eyes again. As if it couldn’t get any worse, Costia asked her to raise her arms straight in front of her for further analytical purposes, and when she did, the girl took her dominant hand and turned it over with calloused, yet gentle, fingers so her palm faced upwards. She wondered how Costia had known that she was right handed. 

Lexa was unsure whether hours or seconds passed this way before Costia stepped away and began frantically scribbling things on a scrap of parchment, with the stub of a pencil which had clearly seen its best days some time ago. From her angle, Lexa couldn’t see much but illegible words and a few brief sketches. It was another few moments before Costia looked up again at the trio.

“That is all I require from you today, _juvaiheda._ Unless there is anything else I can do for you?”

Lexa found herself unwillingly running through numerous scenarios in her mind before she shook her head.

“No, there is no more. _Mochof,_ _Kostia_.”

She also tried to not note how pleasant it was to say the girl’s name.

Anya nodded, and with that she and Lexa departed, leaving Gustus behind momentarily. The pair spoke a rapid exchange in a tongue Lexa recognised as the language of the Boat People, but even through her limited understanding she caught a few words, enough to inform her that something was amiss.

“ _You are coping?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“… Still no word?”_

_“No.”_

_“But…”_

_“Go, Gustos.”_

And with that Gustus came out from the door frame through which he had to duck. As Lexa turned back she saw how the muscle’s in Costia’s cheeks were clenched, her eyes set and determined. When she caught Lexa’s gaze, she didn’t smile but simply bowed her head. That was when she saw a different fight in this girl, the somewhat mysterious blacksmith’s daughter.

As the trio walked away, back towards the city’s centre, Lexa tripped over her coat- and thought she head a muffled laugh from behind her. She glanced back quickly to see that Costia was watching the three of them walk away. Only, this time, when their eyes met, albeit briefly, she didn't nod, but smiled and Lexa couldn't help but notice the slight dimples that formed either side of the corners of her mouth. 

 


	2. it is burden I bare so they don't have to

Costia awoke, as always, with the sun. It danced through the cracks underneath the door, the cracks between the shutters and the dusty wall, temporarily obscuring her vision whenever her eyelids fluttered open. This time, though it wasn’t the first occasion, she found herself on dusty floor of the forge, and figured she must have just simply collapsed with exhaustion half-way, perhaps more, through the night. This was something she was forced to do almost always, as there was no other way for her to keep up the ever increasing work load. And though she wouldn’t admit it, without her father around, Costia was drowning.

She ran her hand through her dark hair, wincing as she coaxed movement into her aching back muscles which creaked and moaned in complaint, before tidying several scraps of metal into specific designated piles depending on their potential uses. To the untrained eye, Costia’s forge was a daunting labyrinth of unfinished work and mess. One wall was littered with scraps of parchment, upon which were scribbled hundreds of notes written in her own messy hand accompanied by just as many deigns. Then there were the shelves and bench in and on which she stored all of her tools, of which she had many and admittedly didn’t tend to have an organisational order to them. Then there was the oven itself, the cooling bath, the piles damaged blades wait to be melted and reused... and the list went on. And on. And on.

Fortunately, Costia had finished many projects after the _juvaiheda_ had paid her a visit, and so she was able to draw a thick line through many of the designs on the wall with a stub of charcoal, only for the parchment to be flipped over to its clean side and re-pinned ready for the next drawing. The pieces she had already done this for she threw into the unlit oven, ready to use as fuel for the flames. Except, Costia’s day did not begin with the lighting of the forge; instead she grabbed her hooded cloak, which had once been her father’s, and a large leather sack. Before leaving her modest dwelling, she was sure to check its contents and, indeed, the dried meat and bread she had purchased yesterday was still there. Though the growling of her stomach practically begged her to consume at least some of it for herself, she ignored the pains of hunger and reminded herself that there were many who were more needy than her.

Stealthily, being sure to stick to the quieter back alleys of the city, for even at this early hour many tradesmen had already risen to begin selling their wares, Costia worked her way through the city. Sometimes, on the few occasions she ventured out onto the main streets, she would steal a bread roll off of the counter when its baker was unawares, and they’d know nothing of it. Sometimes, if she was really lucky, she’d liberate some fruit too, though without the intention of giving anything in return. And sometimes she’d pause and knock on the doors of those who had already agreed to spare whatever food they could to her cause. If any of these people, a family, a tattooist, an entertainer couldn’t afford to give anything up, Costia would simply thank them for her time and move on.

Once or twice, these benevolent givers would ask the question: “But, Kostia, what are you doing for food? You are keeping yourself fed too, _sha_?”

She’d always reply with the same answer, “I get by.”

When she said this, the better-off gave a little more so that Costia may eat too. She would thank them dearly, and leave, but never did she eat this food for herself. This extra food always went to those who needed it most: the orphans.

This secretive operation consumed a couple of hours of Costia’s day and so by the time she had gathered enough to feed the children substantially, elsewhere in the city, Lexa had also risen, only for less vigilante-esc purposes. Previously, Anya had suggested that Lexa sought the betting fights, which took place in the city’s central square most days, so that her battle practice was as diverse as possible. In fact, this was an idea that many of the other mentors admired, and believed would benefit their own seconds, so the fights had become quite a bloody spectacle. It was also a convenient place for Lexa to earn the much needed respect of her people; after all, following the current _Heda’s_ was going to be a tough act, for many were beginning to lose their faith in him for the frequent battles and rocketing taxes to fund them.

Costia, for one, was indirectly grateful for the attraction of crowds towards these fights; a large number of people in close proximity, and in a relatively small area, provided the perfect cover for her to distribute the food she had collected to the orphans, which in itself was illegal under the laws of food distribution, punishable with ten lashes, let alone the stealing she had to do in order to keep them fed. Had she been caught for that, she would have been sentenced to death. And yet, Costia willingly took this risk every day, occasionally stealing money from those betting on the fights, already drunk before the sun had reached its summit in the sky, knowing that a small coin gone amiss here and there would not be mourned for. She liked to think of this theft as appropriate redistribution of wealth, for could the wasteful spending of these people be justified when there were children living on the streets, starving? Never in the time Costia had been doing this work did she question what she did, because she knew that if she did not nobody else would. And then these innocents would die before the end of the next moon cycle.

When, amidst the light morning drizzle which left the earth beneath her feet smelling only half as fresh as the forest floor would, Costia spotted the _juvaiheda_ engaged in battle with a fellow second, she paused knowing that seeing how the girl fought would help her fashion her blade to perfection. And this was the very least the sword could be, for otherwise _juvaiheda’s_ superiors would notice it was not the work of the famous blacksmith, Olan of the Boat People. If this secret was revealed then, not only would Costia be punished for lying, but also for falsely assuming the identity for a respected individual. Akin to the punishment of stealing, she would be killed for this.

Admittedly, Costia had to hand it to the commander-in-training, for she either swept off their feet, or forced to surrender, second after second and wielded her weapon with undoubtable skill (though she also noted the coat she had memorably witnessed the _juvaiheda_ tripping over was nowhere in sight). Her torso was a dizzying array of buckles, straps and mere scraps of metal that acted as armour, but other than these additions she was dressed not too dissimilar to the blacksmith’s daughter who watched with a new-found curiosity. The girl’s brown hair, the colour of tree bark which had been seasoned in the sunlight of spring and with its intricate braids to the point of being labyrinthine, flicked with every slash, jab and block with the same force Costia could imagine the girl lashing her with a leather whip for her crimes. With this image cast aside, because she would not let that happen, she noted how the _juvaiheda_ yielded to her opposition with a little too much ease and trust once she had pushed them beyond the second’s limit; she would always leave off the last move that could knock them into the mud, or even knock them unconscious, help them back onto their feet, or help them towards the side-lines for assistance from the healers on duty. More than once she did all three.

After the final second went down, and was helped up with what appeared to be several broken ribs, and Lexa stood, once again, triumphant and undefeated, but was met only with a slither of praise and an abundance of criticism from her mentor.

“Why are you helping them?” Anya demanded.

“I am being respectful,” Lexa replied.

A short, sharp sigh escaped through Anya’s teeth. This response frustrated her greatly. There was a fine line between being respectful and being yielding to the point of weakness, and, with all the training and wisdom bestowed on her, the _juvaiheda_ still stood firmly on the wrong side of this line. Anya accepted early on that the girl’s kinder nature opposed to the merciless Heda would set her aside when she would ascend her position, bringing a different sort of leadership, but Lexa would not be able to be _Heda_ if she was perceived by her people was overly lenient. Those with weak hearts tended to have very short lifespans.

“No, _juvaiheda;_ you are portraying yourself as weak.”

“So, I should not offer them my aid?” the girl questioned.

“You offer aid only when it has been earned. In being defeated they are weak, and this is not acceptable. A warrior never falls without getting up. A warrior never begs…”

“A warrior never surrenders; _ge smak duan, gyon op nodotaim_ *,” Lexa finished.

“And a leader never tolerates _kwelnes_ *, nor do they show it.”

The _juvaiheda_ nodded, albeit reluctantly because, even with her respect and awe of Anya and her gratefulness for the constant scolding and critique, there were several instances in which Lexa found herself conflicted, as if the leader in her and the compassionate Lexa were making war with each other like the northern and southern winds.

“Take a rest, _juvaiheda._ Watch the warriors as they fight while you do so; perhaps you can learn this lesson from them.”

Just as Lexa slotted her old sword in the scabbard across her back, and moved to the side lines in anticipation of the commencing true warrior fights, she heard a strange whistle. Her head snapping side to side, searching in vain for its source amongst the crowd, it appeared that no one else had heard it, or simply paid it no attention. To those untrained in the art of hunting, it may have been mistaken for the call of a bird, but something about the precise seven seconds between each repetition convinced Lexa that the sound had been produced from human lips. Then, to add to the confusion, she noted how several children, all many summers younger than her, from all directions funnelled into the square and headed in the same direction: towards an inconspicuous corner that a casual onlooker wouldn’t have even realised was there.

Now, children gathering in the square wasn’t an unusual sight by any means, in fact, there were a fair number of them there already, but it was the appearance of them that set them apart. Many were barefoot, their clothes soiled with dirt and littered with holes. They all appeared underfed; these said shredded clothes hanging off of their fragile frames and their gaggling limbs lacking substance, and somewhat wild like the wolves of the northern mountains. For all the knowledge of the twelve bickering clans, Lexa was stunned to realise that these children were probably homeless.

This fact ignited a flame of many unanswered questions that the juvaiheda was forced to abandon when the cluster of children vanished from sight as if they had evaporated and, with this, she set off in direction where she had last saw them. If she found the children, then perhaps Lexa could deliver them to the orphanage in Polis, where at least they would have shelter, clean clothes and food obtained without the illegalities that she suspected they were having to resort to in order to feed themselves enough so their souls did not pass on.

In her pursuit, Lexa spotted the slowest of the pack, a boy who could not have been older than three summers and whose leg dragged as if it were injured, rounding a corner into an alley entirely out of sight from any of the main streets. Here the walls of the adjacent buildings closed in, narrowing the path to the point that it could almost be considered threatening, and the lack of the city bustle made Lexa tread with caution. She paused at the corner, unable to see down where the fair haired child had dashed unless she made herself visible, but she could hear voices.

“Now, shhh. Here you are, take one of everything, _sha_? No, Tyver, don’t eat it all at once; you might make yourself sick! Erilina, you may take tu*- one your brother as well.”

Accompanying this benevolent voice came many enthusiastic _mochof-s_ and excited squeals. Was someone feeding these children? If so, the intensity of the gratitude shown in voices so young, and for something as simple as food, pained Lexa’s heart. And yet, she knew she should confront this giver to demand why the children were not in the care of the orphanage; for, keeping them from this care, would be a crime.

With that, Lexa rounded the corner, only to be almost flattened by the children running back the direction they had come, the bottoms of their tunics folded into slings to carry their newly bestowed beverages and their faces all gleeful smiles temporarily relieved of the burdens of hunger. Once they had left her behind in the dust, vanishing once again, she drew her sword silently, though without the intention of killing (unbeknown to most, she has yet to even make her first kill) and tiptoed towards a hooded figure, presumably the giver, crouched in the mud of the shaded alley.

Suddenly, when she was only a few small steps from the figure, they spiralled up to their standing height and Lexa found herself and the wrong end of a wickedly sharp dagger, but what surprised her the most was the fact that the wielder of said dagger was none other than Costia.

The girl’s eyes, the colour of the darkest of sapphires, burned with the greatest willingness to fight, and determination to protect another, for she stood protecting the faired haired child who clung to her leg- than the _juvaiheda_ had even seen amongst the countenances of the _Heda’s_ warriors. Never during those first few moments of this encounter did this gaze locking onto Lexa’s own eyes, which were the colour of soft moss in comparison, waver and nor did she lower her weapon.

“Now, Tomek,” she said, addressing the boy. “Let Nomon Cos deal with this, _sha_?”

Costia broke her paralysing regard from Lexa to smile reassuringly at the boy, Tomek, and her free hand ruffled his hair with such warmth and affection that could have fooled you into thinking that Costia truly was the boy’s nomon.

“Go, do not be afraid.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Tomek whispered.

“Of course. Now, go.” Tomek did as he was told; he gathered his food as the others had done and scurried off out of their sight as fast as his limp would allow.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lexa asked.

“I feed the orphans,” Costia replied plainly, the point of her dagger still very much aligned with the gap between Lexa’s eyes.

“I could arrest you for keeping them out of the orphanage.”

To that, the girl with the midnight locks laughed, surprising the _juvaiheda_ once again.

“Orphanage? Are you a _banwada_ *? There is no orphanage- not any more. Not after your Heda forced its closure in order to fund his ongoing battles that get us nowhere.”

Lexa hesitated.

“You are _spichen*.”_

“Lying?” Costia scoffed. “Listen to yourself. They say a _Heda_ must be smart, though you don’t seem to be. Why would I, just a blacksmith, go to such an extensive effort to feed these children if there was still orphanage, where they would be being fed?”

The _juvaiheda_ considered this, and indeed saw the logic in Costia’s explanation. Although, having said this, Lexa soon realised that the girl had outwardly insulted her- a crime in its own right.

“Be that as it may, Kostia, you have just insulted me. I could arrest you for that alone,” Lexa told her in a matter-of-fact tone. “And, besides, what are the origins of this food you distribute?”

“Some I make, some I buy. Other items are donated by those who sympathise with the cause.”

“Do you steal, Kostia?”

Costia avoided answering, but her silence to the question told Lexa all she needed to know.

“Tell me, _juvaiheda,_ just how far are you willing to go to uphold the law?” Lexa’s eyes narrowed.

“As far as necessary to bring thieves such as yourself to justice.”

“Don’t talk to me of justice,” Costia all but spat. “Do you believe it is justice for these children to starve, a direct result of your Heda’s ignorance? If you arrest me consider this: who will feed the orphans? They’ll die without me. Do you _want_ their innocent blood staining your fingers? Because if you do this, their deaths will be on _you.”_

Lexa remained quiet- once again the commander and the compassionate in her were conflicting.

_They are children; they are innocent. It is not fault of their own they are in the position that they are. But, if I let this go unpunished does that not put me no better than her? A thief?_

“Prove to me that you have a _heart_.”

The dismissal of Costia crimes, the forgiveness and recognition that she was trying to care for the most in need was less expressed in words and more in the lowering of Lexa’s blade- the relaxation of her shoulders and her eyes, the return of her stance to the unthreatening sort. It was in that moment Lexa realised that, sometimes, good can only be done if the rules are broken. Maybe what was right and what was wrong was a matter of perspective; less black or white and more grey.

And yet, while Costia needn’t have thanked Lexa she did. It seemed that, for all her insurgent behaviour, she recognised that she had put the _juvaiheda_ in a difficult position.

_“Mochof, juvaiheda.”_

Lexa took Costia’s arms in the customary handshake of their people.

“My name is Leksa.”

“I know, Leksa _kom Trikru._ But, you need to go; Onya will note you absence if you don’t return soon.”

 _“Sha,_ you are probably right.”

“I will pay you a visit when your blade is finished. It will not be long now.”

“Okay.”

Costia smiled.

“Okay.”

Lexa had taken a few steps before she turned back around to face the girl with the night skies in her eyes, who had now pulled her hood up again.

“Kostia?”

“ _Sha,_ Leksa?”

“If you spend buying food for the orphans, do you have enough for yourself?”

Costia hesitated, sighing. “Just enough to get by. But, it is a burden I bare so they don’t have to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for the kudos and bookmarks so far. It means a lot! I didn't post this as soon as I had hoped as I didn't finish it before I went away. Now I am just congratulating my liver for still functioning. And I might not drink again for a while... xD
> 
> Anyway here's the translations for this chapter:
> 
> * ge smak duan, gyon op nodotaim = get knocked down, get back up.  
> Kwelnes = weakness  
> Banwada = idiot? (Do correct me if I’m wrong on this one…)  
> Spichen = lying  
> Tu = two
> 
> (you can also find me on Tumblr at praisethefkingbees if you want to say hello :) )


	3. I felt the blood ooze onto my fingers, and knew they would forever be stained

The Commander stood at the head of war council table- his dark unforgiving eyes fixed in a concentrated stare at the maps strewn before him, and the thick vein buried beneath the tattoo which dominated his facial features twitching as his eyebrows furrowed. To those unfamiliar to selection of the _Heda_ by reincarnation, it might have seen illogical that Lexa would ascend him as they were so conflicting in stature; _Heda_ dark skinned with shoulders which carried the same power as a pauna and _juvaiheda_ young, small and largely unthreatening in comparison.

Others had also gathered in the presumed safety of the _Heda’s_ own quarters in the capital city: the leader of the Boat People, Luna, the leader of the Valley Clan, Orion, as well as the chiefs of numerous surrounding villages. The room itself was inconspicuous from anyone who may be present in the stone building, minus the great faded marble columns and vast space of the _real_ council hall, but the dusty floor and lack of ventilation only added to the suffocating atmosphere of the gathering. No alternate setting would have been more apt to give an aura of hopelessness.

 _Heda_ pressed his knuckles into the wood, whitening as they did so, still quiet contemplating, calculating his next moves. Earlier that morning a messenger from TonDC brought news from the village’s chief, Indra, of repeated attacks from as yet unidentified raiders. To add to this there was the ever growing threat of the Northern Alliance between the _Azgeda,_ the Desert Clan _and_ the people of the northern mountains who had conducted random attacks on the villages far north of Polis purely for means of provoking war. However, with the current train of thought forming in the Commander’s mind the idea of war was becoming increasingly likely.

“We have had countless disappearances from nearly all of our villages, _Heda,”_ Luna reported.

“As have we,” Orion supported.                                                                                        

“We believe,” Luna continued, “that the _Maumon_ are responsible. It doesn’t seem plausible this is the doing of the Northern Alliance.”

“Why do you say that?” _Heda_ asked.

“Luna and I have found distinct similarities in the nature of these disappearances, _Heda_. Those targeted tend to be night patrols, and so the assumption can be made that the offenders are familiar with our landscape which cannot be said of the northern clans. Not only this, but, the few deceased who have been left behind all sport the same injuries. And… they are not inflicted by methods used by any of the clans.”

Orion proceeded to reach into his pocket and place a small metal object in the middle of the table. Though it was a first for Lexa, her superiors instantly recognised the weapon, complete with blood stains, as a bullet.

“This is indeed the work of the _Maumon_ ,” _Heda_ concluded as the bullet reminded him once again of the superiority of the Mountain Men, of how, no matter how strong he and his warriors were amongst themselves, the they would always be at their mercy, on their knees.

“How do you propose that we proceed?” Anya asked.

 _Heda_ considered for a moment before clearing the table of maps until it left the largest, and most accurate to date, map of the lands of the twelve clans, stretching as far as the Dead Zone. He stood upright once more, towering over everyone in the room, radiating strength and bravery considered a gift from the Earth itself, his eyes as dark as the wet soil of the woods unflinching and determined.

“I will guide the army north to destroy the Northern Alliance’s strongholds in our lands,” he began, his deep voice as strong and as steady as his stance. “As for the disappearances, increase the number of patrols around your villages, lay traps and aim to capture a Mountain man if at all possible. If you succeed, send immediate word here and a messenger to myself. We can use them to extract the information in which we are currently lacking. As for the raiders in TonDC, _juvaiheda,_ I trust you to address this issue accordingly. Anya and Gustus will accompany you, along with my personal selection of the best seconds, and a handful of warriors I can spare to the cause. Do you accept?”

Lexa nodded.

 _“Sha, Heda,”_ Lexa confirmed, praying that her voice didn’t crack under the weight of the nervousness that sent her insides into a rattling frenzy.

And with that, with each and every significant individual present assigned their own orders, the meeting concluded. Unwilling to spend any more time than was absolutely necessary in the chambers, with its suffocating hopeless air, the chiefs and leaders filed out quickly, ignoring how they all wore the same grime countenances. Soon, the only four that remained were Lexa, Anya, Gustus and _Heda._

“I will pass a message to the others seconds residing here in the capitol to meet you at the gates by the time the sun reaches its peak,” _Heda_ told Lexa. “You must cover as much ground as you can by nightfall.”

“That sounds wise, _Heda,”_ Lexa replied, before turning to Anya and Gustus and indicating them to leave the chamber.

“Once moment, _juvaiheda,_ ” _Heda_ called before she stepped out the door.

“ _Sha, Heda?”_

“Whilst I have faith in your ability, _juvaiheda,_ I will wish you best of luck all the same.”

Then, to Lexa’s surprise, he stepped towards her and took her right arm in a customary gesture of good faith. She couldn’t help by notice how _Heda’s_ eyes appeared to soften in their gaze, as if he were just a faun disguised in the furs a pauna and he had removed his mask, wondering if she had been too quick to judge his ferociousness and apparent unwillingness to settle for an alternative to their political issues other than violence. And yet she recalled Costia’s bitterness towards him, the outward blame she cast upon him for the fate of the starving orphans, and Lexa doubted very much that they were the only ones suffering under the _Heda’s_ regime.

Once again she found herself torn.

*         *         *

 

As the Commander had promised, Lexa met theforces for this mission by the gates of the wall that surrounded Polis before noon and they quickly departed, wishing to make as much progress into the four day ride to TonDC before nightfall. Many of the warriors were young and eager for blood- perhaps even overly so. Somehow, Lexa was unable to match this excitement, concerning herself more with the weight of responsibility on her shoulders; these were _her_ warriors, they answered to _her_ first and foremost. Her plight was akin to that of Atlas, who in the myth of times long gone and forgotten, had carried the weight of the world on his shoulders as punishment for his crimes.

Lexa’s horse was a stunning white stallion, named Pine after the coniferous trees which surrounded her home village. The colour of his hair, similar to that of the moon or the snow of the winter months, was a stark contrast to the dark kohl smudged around green her eyes, the same colour as the needles of fern trees. He stood tall, calmly confident, trotting gracefully, the muscles in his hind and legs clenching and unclenching. The relaxed, almost rhythmic, clopping of his hooves against the soft ground provided the steady repetitiveness that Lexa needed to focus on to soothe her building anxiety at the head of their small, but capable, battalion aided by the close proximity of Anya and Gustus.

Knowing that Pine knew the winding path from Polis to TonDC as well as she did, Lexa watched the trees with the keen eye of a hunter, only game was not what was being hunted; it was anyone who dared attack them. Her ears were tuned to near perfection to filter out the heartbeat of the woods, the whistle of wind between leaves, the chip of a bird- to detect with alarming accuracy even the quietest sound that appeared out of place; a slow intake of breath, a creak of a branch under the weight of a fully grown warrior, the heavy, but quiet, thud of a Reaper’s cursed step on ground that was no longer considered their own.

As the sun, a dull orange orb, waned, slipping further away into the horizon as if it were being reeled on the end of a fishing rod, the sky darkened and rain began to fall from above- slowly at first and then gradually harder until Lexa’s kohl was running down her cheeks like poisoned tears. Realising that it was impossible, and a waste of energy, to try and light a fire in such wet conditions she lead her warriors on a slight detour to a system of small caves, discovered by herself three lives previously. Here, wet garments of clothing were removed and draped over the rocks closest to small hearth, as on her last visit Lexa had thoughtfully collected and stored enough wood to last several weeks, so that they would be near dry by morning, and rations of nuts, berries and strips of smoked meat were distributed.

A dark skinned fledgling warrior, several years older than herself but also _Trikru,_ named Lincoln took the first watch, alongside his old mentor, Plage, who sported several greying hairs in his extensive auburn braids and beard, but would have broken the nose of anyone who dared mention them. They positioned themselves either side of the cave system’s only opening, grateful the shelter the trees provided from the elements, in silence, their pupils dilated as they grew accustomed to the darkness. Inside, Lexa lay close to the fire, bare of her coat and eyes closed, beneath thick fur of what her people called _lyoncour kom moumon_ , still listening, anticipating, but hearing nothing but the crackle of the flames that cast soft shadows over her lightly tanned skin.

There was nothing. At least not yet.

 

*         *         *

 

Elsewhere, far east of Polis, Costia found herself in a very different landscape to what she had grown used to within and around the walls of the capital. She hadn’t set foot in that place for many summers, wary of the pain of loss that would resurface if she did, but pleasantly surprised by the way the cool salty breeze greeted her nostrils like an old friend, enveloping her like the long gone reassuring arms of her father, strong but gentle and kind. Here she was in Olan’s home village, his birth place as well as her own, bordering the white sands on the edge of the Great Eastern Ocean, one of the many which formed the territory of the Boat People.

The people of village were hugely welcoming upon her unexpected arrival, and the concerned when the knowledge was learnt that she was alone: _where is your Nontu? Where is Olan, Cos?_

These are the same questions I wished to ask you, she had replied, before she was informed that they too, alike her, had not seen Olan for many moon cycles. There had been no word of any sort- utter silence. He had not been seen by his old friends, valued clients for a drink or for a new commission. Most, it seemed, had presumed he was dead; killed by exposure perhaps, by the acid fog or attacked sometime during his drunken wonderings. Such drunkenness of his was well known amongst his own people, here away from Polis, and had, in fact, been one of the reasons for their moving to the Capital- for the disruption he caused whilst intoxicated, resulting in a form of softened, and informal, banishment. The village’s chief, Alma, had tried to convince Olan to allow her to look after Costia, for she was just a girl and still mourning, but, alike his daughter, Olan was stubborn. And so they departed for Polis under a promise that the pair could start afresh, and that he would be the father he was meant to be.

Except, upon their arrival this promise was batted aside, a casual hand waved to a pest-like insect, and, if anything, the man sunk further into his grief, and ultimately the drink, too. It was because of this that Costia very quickly learnt the tricks of the blacksmith’s trade- watching her father on the rare occasion that he wasn’t too intoxicated to hold his tools, and in the mean time working through blood, sweat and tears, to the point of exhaustion until she got it right. Most nights, when Olan’s drinking was the worst, she’d shut him in his quarters to keep him out of the way, not because he was violent. Every morning he’d apologise, and say _tonight will be better_ , but it never was. That was the difference between them; whilst Olan cowered from responsibility Costia rose to the challenge- she _fought._ In another life she may have been a warrior.

But not this life.

Costia inhaled deeply, standing alone on the desolated shore and relishing the way the dry white sand caressed the soles of her feet and toes, as she remembered the days of her childhood spent there. Without quite realising what she was doing, she removed her boots and walked to the water’s edge, ignoring the cold, and wading into the waves before flipping onto her back, floating. Bobbing up and down with the movement of the waves as she closed her eyes and remembered the days when Olan had taught her to swim.

_I am nervous, remembering the horror stories told by the older children, of sea serpents and great monsters of the deep, of fishermen swallowed whole._

_It is an essential skill to have, Cos, Papa says. Especially to the Boat People. Come, don’t be afraid. It is perfectly safe in the shallows; I won’t let anything happen to you._

_I nod slowly, several times, taking steps towards the place where the waves meet the shore, where the white sand turned dark and wet. It is soft. Squishy. The water is clear and blue, but darker than the sky above it, which is dotted with puffs of clouds, like the smoke from the nostrils of… What were they called? Oh, sha. Dragons. Myths from the times of old. Great scaled creatures with wings longer than I am tall._

_The water is cold, almost crippling during the early steps. My breath catches in my throat, and what is released short and rasping. But, with every day we venture a little further, submerge ourselves a little deeper until I can’t touch the bottom. Then I start to swim, my young limbs and muscles weak at first, but they gradually get stronger as my confidence grows and I swim further, sometimes out so far that Nomon and her swollen belly are just a speck on the shore. She knows no matter how much she calls that Papa and I won’t swim back until we are tired. She knows I am daring, eager for adventure, and she scolds Papa for encouraging it._

When she opened her eyes, surfacing from the memories, she remained just where she was, gazing at the sky and its stars, a black canvas splatted with white paint. Once again she became fixated on one the brightest, the one that sometimes looked like it flickered. She had heard the stories, from the times of before, of a sky vessel that had sailed into the sky, carrying people into the stars. That story would always be her favourite, one she could’ve listened to her mother tell until the end of time.

 

*         *         *

 

It was another two days of almost constant riding when Lexa and her group of mostly juvenile warriors stumbled across the camp of the raiders who had been attacking TonDC. Had it not been for Lexa’s keen hearing they may have rode straight into it without realisation until they too were being attacked.

She had signalled her group to back up several hundred metres before she had slid off of Pine and she and Gustus approached the camp, from an angle where they would not be seen, hidden by the foliage that the raiders believed obscured them from view, but was now working against them. In this ignorance they made no effort to conceal their liberated wares within their so-called walls, exposing them for the thieves they were with the food, weapons and other supplies scattered around the makings of a fire. Lexa was half surprised that they had even been smart enough not to light the fire, which would’ve been a clear indication to their presence just a short ride outside TonDC.

From their vantage point Lexa realised that these raiders were the clan-less- by the way one woman, whose hair was falling out of the grey strips of cloth tied around her head, guided a young child who stumbled regularly. It was clear that the child was un-seeing; blind, and it alarmed her just how much this child reminded her of the orphan with the limp, Tomek, back in Polis. Another was a young adult man, his horribly disfigured face only revealed when he tucked his hair behind his ear. There were others too, maybe ten in total- all either the deformed or close relatives whose lives had continued after their traditions that cast them out to die in order to preserve the blood line. This was something else that Lexa felt confliction towards, believing, or at least _wanting to,_ that there was a place for everyone, but… what could the quality of life be for an un-serer, in a world like theirs?

_Their clan-less status does not dilute their crimes. Our ways are harsh, but it is the only way we can survive._

With that, knowing she may stall if she put off the ambush any longer, she returned to the group and told them the plan. It was simple enough, surround the camp and attack, with archers in the trees to pick off any who attempted escape, or by other means evaded significant injury. _Leave no survivors, warriors were not weak._ When Anya and the other mentors nodded in agreement, satisfied with the _juvaiheda’s_ strategy, they proceeded without delay.

The clan-less raiders were no match for even the most juvenile of Lexa’s warriors, though they fought hard. The affair was brief and bloody, the crimson substance staining the dry leaves that blanketed the forest floor. Lexa cut down several that crossed her path, though not fatally, ready for them to be killed by one of the other seconds. Still she was not eager to make her first kill, knowing that there would be no return.

As the fight drew to a close, nine out of ten of the clan-less lay dead at their feet, the skin of the faces carved of pain, anguish, anger, their eyes like glass open and staring into nothing. Some were disembowelled, their internal guts spilling out of them, wasps breaking from their nest upon attack, others missing limbs. For only nine dead, there was so much _blood-_ over everything, everyone, enough to quench their slayers thirst, if it were water.

The remaining soul was the unseeing child, a young girl with hair akin to the plumage of a faun and snow pale skin, splattered with the blood of the dead- a horrifying artwork. Her screams and cries for those gone, in the unfathomable babble of one not yet old enough to speak in a tongue that was comprehendible, echoed in the warriors ears, including Lexa’s. Perhaps it was because of this that no one stepped forwards to release her soul, because she was young and innocent and helpless, because despite their occupation as killers they were just a little too _moral._

It was Lexa who moved, in the end.

 _To spare her from further suffering,_ Lexa told herself. _So you can move on to her next life. So she can live again, but better._

As Lexa plunged the sword into the girl’s chest, she could feel the blade tear through her tissue- and the sound- _by Gaia the sound_ -was worse than the screech of metal against stone. She could see the blood spread through the material of her upper garments, _feel_ as it soiled the cloth and oozed onto her fingers, like a fatal flesh disease spreading across her skin, and she knew then that they would forever be stained, with this blood and all the blood that was to come.

“ _Yu gonplei ste odon,”_ she whispered, on her knees holding the girl, lowering her onto the ground as her life slipped from her and her chest became still.

When she received her Mark that later that day, in the evening under the flickering light of candles in TonDC, bestowed by Anya, her eyes soft and proud, Lexa’s eyes brimmed with tears, but none fell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that this chapter is a) brief and b) a bit late. I am, admittedly, not good at updating fast, but I hope you enjoy this chapter anyway. The next one is set to be much longer. 
> 
> Oh. And prepare for feels.
> 
> Also, thank you for all the reads and kudos so far. But, don't be shy to comment!
> 
> As always, I can be found at praisethefkingbees on Tumblr if you want to drop by :)  
> \---
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Azgeda- Ice Nation  
> lyoncour kom moumon- mountain lion  
> Yu gonplei ste odon- your fight is over
> 
> \---
> 
> Other notes:
> 
> By Gaia- I am making own interpretation about the religion of the Grounders. I doubt they would believe in the traditional God, of say Christianity, or any other religions of today. Gaia, as you may or may not know (any Percy Jackson fans you'll know this but hey) is the Greek Goddess of the Earth, and I like to believe that the Grounder's religion, if any, centres around the idea of Mother Nature, Mother Earth etc. Basically, in the context of this fic by Gaia is the equivalent of 'by God' :)


	4. beauty disfigured by violence, a plagued heart

Lexa returned to Polis several days later, the mark, one kill, upon her chest still raw, blistering and sore. Its tenderness and the dull ache that accompanied it, and the others that would undoubtedly follow, would forever act as a permanent reminder of her deeds, the god-like persona that had been forced upon her, choosing who was and who was not worthy to continue their existence. There was also a certain unfeeling numbness that overcame her from time to time now, a sort of unwilling indifference that made Lexa fear that she would lose just what it meant to be human; to be loving. She always told herself that she would always be a human being first, _juvaiheda_ or _Heda_ second, but as the days went on it became clear that to be a leader meant to be a leader first, and always first. Anything else fell second, by the wayside. Including her feelings.

A package, swaddled on cloth, lay on her bed amongst the furs on her return. The cloth itself was the colour of the night sky, dark and foreboding what was within. There was a note beside it, as if there could be any confusion about its identity or where it had come from, in the careful loopy hand of someone whose first written language was not _T_ _rigedasleng._ She could almost picture Costia hunched over a workbench, an old quill poised between her fingers slowly drawing out each letter, her tongue pinched between her front teeth:

_Juvaiheda,_

_I hope that the contents of this package is to your satisfaction, and it if it is not please do not hesitate to contact me so that any necessary alterations can be made._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Costia kom Polis_

The first thing that struck Lexa about the message, albeit brief, was its formality, and how it lacked the somewhat tentative familiarity between them, though the second thing was something notably more curious; Costia had signed herself _kom Polis_ , as opposed to her native clan, _kom Floukru_. If this was typical signature of the capitals residence then it was a fact which had alluded Lexa thus far. Or, if it was not, perhaps the signature provided a tiny insight into the workings of Costia’s mind, and to where her sense of belonging lay. Either that or Lexa really was looking into things too much, and not paying nearly enough attention to the package itself.

As she peeled the tightly wound cloth from the weapon she was careful to keep her hand away from the blade itself at all times, which proved to be wise as it ended up slicing through the fabric as if nothing was there at all. She’d never seen a blade so sharp, and was almost nervous about running her finger along its upper side, as opposed to its edge, in fear that even that might cut her skin. However, it didn’t take long for her to know one thing for certain: she would not be returning it; it was the embodiment of perfection, and finding a fault in its creation was an impossibility. It was forged of silver and grey metal, of such strength in its core that Lexa had seen nothing like it. Its handle was a mosaic of these metal pieces, painstakingly crafted to compliment the contours of her small hands regardless of how she held it, and without locking her grasp into being a particular way.

She would certainly have to pay a visit to Costia’s father to thank him for his superb efforts, and give him a handsome sum for it, even though such commissions where, by an unwritten law, non-payment requiring, as it was thought to be asked to create for such a figure was payment enough.

Lexa did not have much longer to admire her sword’s artistry before her quarters’ door was flung upon, without so much as a knock, and because of this she knew, hoped, that it was her family coming to pay her a surprise, and apparently very loud visit.

Her two older brothers, though they were close enough in age to be commonly mistaken for twins, Nyko and Lupos, tumbled into her room first all deep booming voices, several heads in height above her and wide shoulders, although these are where their similarities ended. Nyko, a healer of the _Trikru_ , had his hair long and upbraided, shaved close to his scalp on the left hand side, though there was enough dark brown fuzz to conceal his tanned skin. There was a delicacy to his fingertips, an intricacy required for the most precise mixing of medicines and rubbing the leaves of plants with antiseptic properties between them with the patience a parent has for a young child until the juice starts to form. By contrast, Lupos’s hands were more dry, rough and calloused from endless days in the woods hunting with a bow and arrow, and clean-shaven. Lupos also showed preference to cropped hair, only just brushing the edges of his ears, saying that it would not get tangled up in his equipment this way, although Nyko often insisted that he was doing it wrong to wind him up.

Each of them clapped her around the back, hitting her so hard she almost stumbled forwards, but still smiled and put on a brave face.

“Come on boys, out of the way,” a female voice laughed, “I haven’t even seen my favourite little sister because of your big backsides.”

It was then that Lexa’s eldest sibling, by almost ten summers, came into view as Nyko and Lupos stepped aside to let her through, as for despite her superiority in years over the two boys, even though they were old enough to be considered adults by their laws, they towered over Ember almost as much as they towered over Lexa. Of the four of them, Ember had been the only one to inherit their mother’s fiery red locks, a rarity among the _Trikru_ that made her stand out in a crowd, and consequently made it harder to conceal herself in the times when it was necessary, which was alarmingly frequently as a seasoned warrior. But of course, Ember being who she was, she always found a way, namely a balm of her own creation, with a little of Nyko’s assistance though she would never admit it, which had an odd consistency and was sticky and brown- it had similar staining properties to her and Lexa’s war paint.

Lexa walked into Ember’s arms without hesitance, and held her there for some time, for it had been so long. Too long, in truth, since they had seen each other, but that was yet another sacrifice that Lexa knew she would make: family. And yet, this, almost above everything else, she would not give easily, for her siblings meant more to her than anything, anyone. Maybe even the clans, if Lexa allowed herself to think of herself as a regular citizen.

“Now where are all these muscles you claim to have, hmm?” Ember teased, prodding her arm.

“They are hiding,” Lexa laughed in response. “Expertly.”

“ _Sha, sha,_ ” Lupos added, only for his sentence to be finished off by Nyko.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, little sister.”

“I am not your little sister anymore,” Lexa grumbled, her eyebrows knotting together.

Nyko shook his head.

“ _Bas!* Juvaiheda,_ blah blah blah. You are still our sister first, and you are pretty small. That makes you our little sister, and that is never going to change!”

“By Gaia, Naikou, leave the _gada_ alone will you? We’re supposed to be celebrating after all,” Ember scolded her brother.

“Oh, _sha!_ Little Leksa…” Nyko paused to take pleasure in how she narrowed her eyes, and looked about as unthreatening as a dormouse, “word had got around that you got your first mark? Is that true?”

Lexa nodded, pulling aside her upper garment to reveal it.

“Congratulations, Leksa!” Lupos exclaimed. “You are a true warrior now. Does this mean you are no longer Onya’s second?”

Lexa shrugged.

“I am sure there is still much for me to learn. I will not be a second from when Onya says so.”

“That is probably wise, in all honesty,” Ember told her before changing the topic. “Now, Leks, I am officially kicking you out of your quarters so that Naikou and I can make some necessary preparations. Lupos and Gostos are taking you hunting, alright?”

“Do I have any choice in this?” Lexa asked, a trace of laughter in her voice.

“That would be a negative. Now, go go- and be as long as possible!”

 

*         *         *

 

It appeared that Gostos and Onya were already in on the plans to celebrate Lexa’s first kill, and that everything had been arranged outside of her earshot. Apparently, _Heda_ himself had approved of the celebrations, although his offer to hold a city wide festival in her name and been politely declined, chiefly by Ember, for she knew that, whilst celebration should come where it is due, Lexa would not find comfort in such a fuss being made of something so… cruel. Against nature. Inhuman. There were a thousand other descriptions that Lexa could use, but she pushed them aside knowing that it would be a long time before she would get to spend time with her family alone, if ever again.

It must have rained near Polis whilst she had been away in TonDC, for the ground beneath Lexa’s feet was still soft as the seemingly endless labyrinth of trees blocked a great deal of sunlight which would have otherwise dried up the wet earth even in this post-summer time.

They were only a short walk from the walls of Polis when both Lexa’s and Lupos’s keen sense detected a smell that appeared out of place amongst the aromas of the partially dry earth, bark and pine needles: smoke, and nearby too. Immediately dismissing the purpose of their trip outside the city, the three of them, Gustus, Lexa and Lupos fell into positions well known to them for a stealthy approach to a potential threat, Lexa sandwiched between the two of them single file so as to ensure that she had the maximum protection, though it would seem most strange that anyone, or anything for that matter, that was even vaguely threatening would dare come so close to the capital’s walls. It was this, coupled with an odd gut feeling that informed her whatever they were expecting would not be what was going to greet them.

As usual, though there were some times where Lexa disliked that this was so, she was right. The three of them were pressed up against a tree on the edge of small clearing, with Gustus covering their backs, and Lexa peeking out from underneath her brother’s arm, when they spotted the burning pyre, a small body wrapped in brown like a stillborn child within the flames, and heard what sounded like a lullaby coming forth from the lips of a figure with long dark standing before it.

 

_Deep in the meadow,_

_Under the willow,_

_A bed of grass,_

_A soft green pillow._

_Lay down your head,_

_And close your sleepy eyes,_

_And when again they open,_

_The sun will rise._

_Here it’s safe,_

_And here it’s warm,_

_Here the daisies guard you,_

_From every harm,_

_Here your dreams are sweet,_

_And tomorrow brings them true,_

_Here is the place where I love you._

_Deep in the meadow_

_Hidden far away_

_A cloak of leaves_

_A moonbeam ray._

_Forget your woes,_

_And let your troubles lay,_

_And when again its morning,_

_They’ll all wash away,_

_Here it’s safe,_

_And here it’s warm,_

_Here the daises guard you,_

_From every harm,_

_And here your dreams are sweet,_

_And tomorrow brings them true,_

_Here is the place where I love you._

 

It was about this stage in the girl’s, the angelic quality lightness to the singer’s voice making it abundantly clear of the figure’s gender, lullaby that Lupos, somewhat disrespectfully by all accounts, stepped forward, still armed and amidst the perplexed tilt of his head had not been watching where he placed his feet, the muffled snapping of a twig quickly followed an exclamation of pain escaping from his lips, as the girl and spun around and thrown a small knife into his shoulder with alarming accuracy and speed. Lexa had taken a step forward, about to draw her sword from the scabbard slung beside her waist, knowing Gustus would take care of her brother, before realising that the girl was Costia herself.

“By Gaia!” she exclaimed, her voice unmistakably strained from grief, the veins in her eyes red and pronounced from crying, and her dark hair notably more unkempt and straggly up close. “I am so sorry. What the heck are you even doing creeping up on me anyway? Oh, don’t answer that. Are you okay?”

Lupos inhaled sharply through his teeth as Gustus pulled the short blade from him, before insisting he was fine, which he was. There was very little bleeding, and nothing a cauterize from Nyko couldn’t fix with ease, and maybe a little soothing balm too. If anything Lupos was more annoyed than anything else, Lexa knew, recognising the narrowing of his green eyes beneath dark untamed brows the way that Lexa’s narrowed in the same way- apparently a genetic trait or one nurtured habit.

“What are you doing out here?” Lexa asked Costia, the unspoken true meaning of her question well received and understood by the other girl: _who is on the pyre?_

Costia inhaled, her arms resting on her thighs as she squats down in front of Lupos, and to Lexa’s left to get a better look at the injury she inflicted.

“I was away to the East for several days. Do you remember Tomek?”

_Do you remember the little blonde boy with the limp, one of the orphans, who thanks to your assurance not to turn me into the Guard I could keep feeding?_

“Yes.”

“He didn’t make it.”

Lexa couldn’t say anything, even the slightest utterance of an apology before suddenly Costia did something that was more surprising than the throwing of the knife; she tore Lexa’s sword, the one of her own making, from her hip before her non-dominant elbow to catch her squarely in the sternum, sending the girl crashing to the ground with a thud heavier than would be expected for her slight frame, not because of any secret mass of Lexa’s but because of the sheer strength behind the blow. Momentarily dazed, Lexa confused the amplitude of Costia’s war-like cry for her own blood gushing within her ears, before leaping to her feet, drawing her only other weapon- how could she have been so stupid as to not bring an extra sword?- a mere dagger and taking in the scene which was evolving before her.

It was at this moment that Lexa realised that Costia had just saved her life. She was battling a Reaper, white paint smeared across his face and his head shaved of hair, and Lexa could tell by the close proximity of the intense fight that the Reaper had been heading for her, and would’ve caught her completely unawares, potentially even decapitated her before she could even react, had Costia not been as quick as she had.

Lexa held the dagger in her hand, poised and ready to be thrown and embedded between the Reaper’s eyes but he and Costia were moving too quickly in their duel. Costia fought with alarming skill, matching and exceeding that of many of the fully trained warriors Lexa had seen in a style that was all loops and twists and spins, quickly dizzying the Reaper she was engaged with. And yet, what shocked Lexa the most was the intensity of her concentrated stare matched by the clenching of the muscles in her neck; a white hot raging _fury_ fuelling the desire for the most vengeful bloody form of violence. It was past the line of insanity, wild, inhuman and animalistic in the same way one might so desire to tear the limbs off the killer who massacred your loved ones, your village.

It was over scarcely before Lexa could even register its beginning, unable to contain the twisting inside her stomach as Costia kicked the Reaper to ground, thrusted the blade through his heart before withdrawing it without delicacy and swinging the blade through the Reaper’s neck; decapitating him. Even Lupos and Gustus stood in shock, unable to register the horrors that had just taken place before them.

It didn’t take long for the raging snarl carved into Costia’s lips to vanish, water to a flame, to be replaced by a strangled inhalation of breath and the beginnings of quiver in her lips and tremor of her hands. The blade, in its bloodstained glory, slipped from her fingers and onto the ground with a thud, the embodiment of bathos before she sunk to her knees, frantically and desperately whipping her hands down her clothes, smearing them with red. She bit her front teeth hard into her knuckles, to muffle the sobs which caused her chest to spasm, leaving crescent shaped indents in her skin.

Though Lexa knew she should step forward, console the girl- she had just killed a man, if a Reaper could be justified as so- but was frozen to the spot where she stood, as rooted into the ground as the tall trees around her. The flames a short distance around continued to crackle, her nostrils assaulted by the stench of burning flesh.

It was Gustus who stepped forward, resting a hand on the girl’s shoulder, a gesture she did not shrug off, but knew was fruitless in its attempt to comfort.

“You did what you had to do, Costia,” Gustus told her, a soft whisper. “It wasn’t him anymore.”

“I know,” she replied, albeit raggedly. “That was a savage, a soulless animal, but… I cannot help but think, hope and fear at the same time that the smallest part of him was still there. And I killed him. _I killed him.”_

Gustus helped Costia to her feet.

“You did what you had to do,” he repeated. “Now come. Let us give your father the send of he deserves, so his soul may move onto the next live as it was before.”

_By Gaia. The Reaper was Olan._

Costia gathered herself together, wiping the tears from her cheeks, smearing them like she had her clothes, before she and Gustus lowered Olan’s body parts onto the pyre which were instantly licked up by flames. A grotesque image of the body of what was once a man turned animal, besides the swaddled delicate frame of the little fair-haired boy with a limp, both victims of circumstance and a deaths without merit of the values of their lives, regardless of their apparent mundanity.

As Gustus returns to Lupos, re-examining his wounds like he had what only felt like moments before, Lexa finally stepped forwards to stand beside Costia in front of the fire, the flames flickering in the wind, but found that no words could express her sorrow for Costia’s loss as well as her gratitude for, in doing so, saving her life. And so, before Lexa could talk herself out of it she reached her hand across to wind her fingers between hers, squeezing Costia’s hand with the greatest tenderness, knowing that actions often spoke louder than words. To her surprise Costia did not recoil at her touch, only grazed her thumb across the lower knuckle and side of Lexa’s index finger. Her hands were still shaking.

Without any prompt from Lexa, Costia began to explain the circumstances which had led to this scene.

“ _Nontu_ was a drunk, in truth,” she said quietly, for the requirement for raised voices within the city walls did not apply here and especially not in front of the dead. “Until today he had been gone for months, and nobody had seen him. I even went back to my native village in the East but there was no sign of him.”

Costia drew a long breath in.

“I suppose he must have ventured out too far the night he went missing in one of his drunken hazes. Too far to find his way back, even though he had always before. Maybe he fought against them when they took him captive, turned him into one of them. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he became one out of his own madness. Not that any of that really matters now. The dead are gone. _Em gonplei ste odon*.”_

Costia was still holding Lexa’s hand.

 

*         *         *

 

Too much time had passed by when they realised how late it was- their trip was meant to be short, and yet the sun was easily half-way through its afternoon arc. If they delayed their return to Polis any longer then the sun would slip past the horizon and night would fall. Gustus tried to convince his niece to accompany them back to the wall, but Costia was adamant in remaining where she was. To his dismay, this put Gustus in a difficult position, for he would always be Lexa’s guard primarily before being Costia’s _oncl_ and so was presented with a choice which, in reality, wasn’t a choice at all. And so, with a great amount of reluctance Lexa, Gustus and Lupos deserted the girl, leaving her with nothing but the dead and flames for company. In a gesture which dismissed her own requirements for safety, Lexa tried to offer Costia her sword, which she now presumed the girl had forged herself, only she outwardly refused.

“I appreciate the offer, Leksa, but really: I will fine.”

This distinct stubbornness was a trait that, according to Gustus, Costia had inherited from her mother. Had their situation been different, her brother not injured and their pace back to the city not hurried in cautiousness, and a desire to stay out no longer than necessary, Lexa would have asked Gustus’s reasoning for the sadness that laced the words _her mother._

Lexa had hoped, prayed even and perhaps naively so, that their prolonged absence had gone un-noted, but the wash of relief that flooded Ember and Nyko’s faces the moment they stepped inside the gate told her otherwise.

“By Gaia,” Ember exclaimed upon seeing her brother’s injury. “What happened to you?”

Lexa and Gustus quickly exchanged a look, a look which solidified an unspoken agreement between them: tell only who is necessary of the truth, keep everything as quiet as possible. They both knew that if the truth got out it would be a very real possibility that Costia would pay with her life, which neither of them were going to let happen without a fight.

Lexa lowered her voice to barely a whisper, and guided them out of the guards’ earshots despite their protests, but she was _juvaiheda_ after all.

“Not here. Let’s get back to my quarters.”

Ember sighed, frustrated by her sister’s silence but smart enough not to draw attention to it, knowing she would only keep quiet if there was good reason.

“Okay, kiddo, but you have some explaining to do.”

In the comfort and safety of Lexa’s quarters she told Ember and Nyko, whilst he tended Lupos’s knife wound, everything; of Olan the Reaper and Costia, his daughter who had saved her life and killed him with her own hand. After the tale had been told Ember slipped out, sworn to secrecy, to purchase medical supplies for Nyko’s use from the market. She was gone a while, to the point that twilight had already passed, and everyone was growing anxious when she burst back in, breathing heavily as if she had run back and speaking in a rush.

“Kostia came back when I was at the market. She’s completely given herself up, confessed to everything,” she hurried, before turning to Gustus. “I’m so sorry! There was nothing I could do I tried to talk her down, shut her up- by Gaia _anything_ \- but…”

“But what?” Gustus demanded.

“She’s being punished. Ten lashes for impersonating a significant individual and wounding an innocent civilian.”

With that Lexa and Gustus rushed from the room, leaving Nyko tending Lupos knowing that his small knife wound was now the least of their problems.

When they reached the square, home of the whipping post for such occasions, Lexa’s heart was rattling in her chest, and a sizable crowd had gathered. Under the dim flicker of the torches, the scene which Lexa saw play out before her took a notably more sinister turn from the previous times she had witnessed a punishment by whipping, a number which she didn’t like to think about (but soared well above the total number of digits she had on both her hands _and_ feet). The gathered crowd was as silent as the black, still, night, the entire square as devoid of anything so much as a mutter as the sky held no stars, clouds obscuring them from view. The crack of _Heda’s_ whip was the first sound Lexa registered, shortly followed by a muffled exclamation of pain, as if Costia were biting down on her lip so as to not give the Commander the satisfaction of hearing her pained cries.

By the time Lexa had pushed her way to the front of the crowd, though Ember was desperately trying to hold her back, something that would have otherwise been Anya’s job if she did not have to stand diligently by the Commander’s side, she had counted more than ten lashes, the agreed duration of punishment. On the twelfth lash- by her counting and not taking into consideration those administered in her absence- Costia’s lips gave way, releasing a strangled cry of agony as she gripped the ropes which bound her hands above her head against the pole so hard the pressure of her fingernails had almost gnawed away at the skin across her palms. Her body fell forward, limp, and her knees slipped from beneath her as she lost consciousness, and yet he raised his arm slowly, as if for effect, as if he were installing fear in his people and relishing the girl’s pain _the sick bastard._

With that Lexa had had enough, an inferno of anger bursting into existence in her gut, and she started forward to stand between him and Costia. For a moment it looked like he was indifferent to this insurgence, as if he would happily whip Lexa unconscious as well before continuing to tear at the already butchered skin on Costia’s back until she bled to death.

Lexa had to restrain herself from spewing profanities at her soul’s current vessel ( considering this, then, was it crazy to want to strangle him?) when she caught Anya’s intense glare. Oddly enough though this glare, upon further examination for a moment of two, did not discourage Lexa from continuing with her actions, but merely heeded her to choose her words with care.

“ _Heda,_ the decreed punishment for this girl’s crimes was ten lashes, and ten lashes have been given.”

“Move out of the way, Leksa _kom Trikru_ ,” the man snarled. This time the use of Lexa’s given name was not one of endearment, but one aimed to patronise. If anything this just made Lexa even angrier than she was already. Did the position of _Heda_ exempt the man from the unwritten laws of common respect to address everyone as they should be addressed under all circumstances, unless otherwise agreed or accepted?

“No, _Heda,”_ Lexa replied with a steady collected tone, and reinforced with such confidence that Lexa herself was shocked. “The decreed punishment for this girl’s crimes was ten lashes, and ten lashes have been given.” Lexa dared not say anything but repeat what she had already uttered, in fear that she would, for want to putting it a better way, loose her cool.

She wasn’t sure when the shift in the square’s atmosphere occurred, but when Lexa could finally hear sounds outside of the swift current of blood through her ears there was a different sort of silence; no longer one crafted from fear but admiration for Lexa’s determinatilon and bravery- a deep routed respect for taking a stand against mercilessness and giving her people reason to root for her, to look forward to her reign with a sort of hopefulness that everything might, just possibly, get better.

There was even a murmur of agreement amongst the crowd and the nodding of heads, knowing that there was safety and anonymity in numbers. It was at this stage that the Commander finally gave in, albeit reluctantly and with a certain determination to assert his position of ultimate power and to show even the bravest and the strongest were not safe from his wrath.

The Commander did this by striking Lexa’s face with his whip, angled so it caught the corner of her eye, a millimetre more to the left and he would’ve cleaved her eyeball in half, and slashed across her lip, a waterfall of blood suddenly spilling down her chin and neck and underneath her upper garment. She remained standing and, alike Costia, refused to give the man the satisfaction of hearing her pained groan, biting down hard on the insides of her checks, only squeezing her eyes shut in an involuntary response to the searing pain across her cheek once he had spun on his heels and began to walk away, his whip trailing across the dirt leaving a stream of warm blood in his wake.

Lexa did not even try to stem her own bleeding before she rushed towards Costia, seeing that Gustus had reached her already and relieved her of her bounds. The sight of her slaughtered back was even more gruesome up close, for it looked like there was hardly an inch of un-lashed skin left and blood covered everything the way the clouds covered the stars.

“We have to get her to a Healer,” Lexa spluttered, as she gaged on the blood which rushed past her teeth as she opened her mouth.

Ember tore the sleeve of her tunic off before pressing it against the lash on Lexa’s face.

“We have to get you to a healer to,” the fire-haired woman informed her younger sister, in no uncertain terms. “We cannot take her to your quarters; it’s not safe.”

The _for either of you_ remained unspoken.

The following immediate aftermath of Costia’s punishment passed in a bloody haze for Lexa, paying little attention to the twists and turns that she, Ember and Gustus, with Costia slung across his back, made through the numerous backstreets of Polis until they had reached the residence of a Healer who, apparently, owed Ember a favour or two in an inconspicuous corner of the city where they would (hopefully) not be perused. Though Lexa was unsure when Anya had actively became part of their rebellious group, she spotted the woman following them from a few paces behind, acting as their eyes and ears.

Once inside, the healer, who was a woman with greying hair and the colour of sun-dried olives, cleared a wooden table and instructed that Costia laid on her front. Quickly, carefully. The tatters of her upper garment and bindings were quickly cut away in order to gain proper access to her injuries. It was only under the candle light that Lexa registered the details of Costia’s injuries, noting the barbaric crisscrossing of the lashes across each other to mutate already broken skin further. As Lexa was treated by a young Healer, presumably the woman’s apprentice and also her son judging by the mirrored eye shape and strong straight nose, she noticed out of her one functioning eye, for the other was considerably swollen now, a remnants of what appeared to be a tattoo within the maze of gashes. She could just make out trees, perhaps a forest, then water and what appeared to be a boat of sorts in a scene spanning the entire of her back, which would have once been beautiful. As the wounds were cleaned and the blood mopped up, staining the bowl of hot water red as if rubies lined its base, the art, or what remained, became a little clearer: a definite forest scene including flowers and butterflies seamlessly merging into a terrain Lexa assumed was the Eastern ocean. Perhaps the boat was a symbol representing the Boat People.

Whilst clutching his niece’s limp hand, an anger simmered behind Gustus's eyes. Just how much could one person suffer in one day? He stroked her damp, sweaty hair and gazed solemnly at the destroyed art. Without prompting he began to tell Lexa its backstory, as if it would somehow dissipate his anger by distracting him, forcing his brain to focus on a different task.

“Kostia grew up in Olan’s village just next to the Eastern Ocean. Her favourite place to sit was never on the sand, in the sea or the village. There is this one spot where the forest merges perfectly with the shore, and if she sat in just the right place there would be sand between her toes but earth beneath her hands and trees above her head. That’s the place that the tattoo depicts, the place that is symbolic of her duel heritage.”

Gustus inhaled deeply and sighed.

“Her mother, her name was Flora, was my sister, and of _Trikru._ She was a story teller and met Olan of the Boat People in Polis one day when she was still young; not much older than yourself. They stayed in touch, despite being miles apart, and eventually she packed her things to be with him. There was an outcry at first, but thankfully the relationship between our clans had always been a good one. She had Kostia in her twentieth year, right in the middle of spring. Six years later she died in childbirth. The twins, both boys were also lost. That is what the boat is, here,” Gustus pointed to it. “It is a floating pyre, for all three of them. That’s what they do in the _Floukru_ when someone dies; they send them out into the ocean as the ultimate reward of freedom before the next life.” 

The pair sat in silence after that, for at some point along the line Ember had stepped outside so as to not overcrowd the Healer’s quarters, as well as to stand guard outside with Anya. Soon, knowing that he should return to his duties, or perhaps he needed some air, Gustus went outside too, leaving Lexa alone with Costia. She took her hot, sweaty hand in her own, dipping her head to press it into her cheek, her own intricate braids spilling of the table like a bag of feathers released on upturning. As she pushed her hair back from her eyes, which comfortably straddled the indecision between green and grey, Lexa saw a small smile creep into the girl’s pain riddled features; a glimmer of hope, a silver lining amidst her beauty disfigured by violence and the hurt of the girl’s heart that may or may not cease to plague her for the rest of her days.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added the finishing touches to this quite late in a need to update so any mistakes are mine. Do point them out if you spot any! 
> 
> Thank you for reading as always. 
> 
> If you want to come and shout at me you can find me on tumblr: praisethefkingbees
> 
> \---  
> Bas: whatever  
> Em gonplei ste odon: his fight is over


	5. carpe diem, quam minimum credula pastero

If there was to be just one thing consistent throughout history, it would be humankind’s fascination with the rise and fall of the sun, how that every day the sun would slip away behind the hills to rest, to sleep like they, and then to rise again the following day, fresh and renewed.

This fascination and awe of the sublime did not fail to elude Lexa just one week after she had defied the Commander. As she stood in the steps outside her quarters, watching _Heda_ mount his two headed mare, as black as the night sky had been dark, her head tilted upwards to admire the way that the sky now brightened with the rising of the sun. The light which trickled over the far away horizon, obscured by forests and then the snowy mountains of the North, was pale yellow in colour, soft and brought warmth to Lexa’s cold cheeks as a little air escaped her lips, a white spiral dancing off to her side like smoke.

It had been five days. Maybe it had been more, or even less, but _Heda_ had no offered an ounce of an explanation, let alone an apology. Since then he and Lexa had only shared verbal exchanges when it was necessary and curt nods otherwise. Lexa offered another one of these to him in the brief moment he turned his head before setting off, cross city to the gates and out to yet another battle field. There was a fresh, jagged and ugly, white scar on his dark skin, skittering down the full length of his face, just off centre from the bridge of his nose. The _juvaiheda_ knew that she wasn’t the only one who believed that the man was more than deserving than the deformity it offered his features.

No smile or nod was offered in return, just a sort of indifference which frosted around the edges.

Lexa shuffled on her feet, clenching the muscles in her jaw that made the still healing cut across her face twinge. She had ready talked it through with Anya and Gustus. Gustus had been all for the idea, whilst Anya proved to sport reluctance at first although she had eventually come to about the idea. It was a risk. It would mean defying _Heda_ yet again, but in the times that he left Lexa in Polis she was where ultimate position of power rested until his return. It was with this logic that Lexa had first forged the plan, in the early hours following the whipping whilst she pressed a cool cloth against Costia’s skin which had radiated the warmth of a volcano’s core.

Anya stood beneath a great but cracked pillar, that may have been white once upon a time, a little to Lexa’s left, but out of sight to most. The softness of the grey early morning shadows fell across her, down her nose and over her hair, making it appear several shades darker than its dirty blonde hue. She raised a quizzical eyebrow, met with a simple, singular, nod.

It was time.

Messengers were sent, darting to all corners of the city, spreading the same message:

_All those who are able, gather in the central square. Juvaiheda has a message. An announcement to make._

Lexa stood straight, twisting the frays of the sleeve of her coat, both of which were just a little too long and covered her palms to the base of her fingers. It wasn’t long before a sizable crowd had been mustered before her, some weary eyed and sparsely dressed, just risen from their slumbers, and others throwing nervous glances at one another.

“Citizens of Polis,” she addressed them. “I appreciate your swift attendance. I will endeavour to not take up too much of your time. I have asked you here to inform you of an important change happening within our walls.”

Eyes lit up. Feet shuffled. Breaths were inhaled, and held.

“It has been brought to my attention that due to the…” Lexa paused, carefully calculating her choice of words, “expense of the political unrest between the clans that _you_ , the people of Polis, the heartbeat of this stronghold, have not been supported in the ways that you should be. I know that many of you do not have enough to eat, or a safe place of permanent residence to call your own. Hence, it is for this reason I am introducing an open door policy; from today any unoccupied rooms in the building behind me will be open for those in need, whatever the time of day or circumstance. Food and medical treatment will be provided accordingly. Let it be noted, however, that this is not policy to abused, so, please do not seek our aid if you able, for else you will be needlessly consuming limited and valuable resources which could be used for greater good elsewhere.”

Not for the first time, there was an immense admiration radiating from the crowd, a newly found respect thoroughly reinforced. Standing among them, and very much against her orders to rest, Lexa spotted Costia, her skin pale against her dark untamed waves. Even though Lexa could see the traces of pain still in her eyes, the same colour as the sky above, the extent of her beaming smile and the prominent dimples sketched into her features almost disregarded this from view altogether.

But then something unexpected happened.

The crowd applauded, and all the city’s citizens who had gathered witness the corners of their _juvaiheda’s_ mouth creep upwards into a small, bashful, smile.

 

*          *          *

Unsurprisingly, Costia had been one of the first to volunteer to help, despite protests from both Lexa and Gustus, but the trouble was that they needed all assistance they would muster, to the extent that Lexa had ordered all second’s training to be halted until she said otherwise.

The volunteers were divided into groups. Some were to help inside; kitting out the central hall with blankets, determining who required medical assistance, distributing food rations. Others were sent into the city, down back street alleys and the furthest of the city’s corners for anyone who needed their help. The sick were isolated from the healthy, to prevent the spread of any illness and infection. The famished and weak were carried on stretchers, and then shoulders when it became clear that they didn’t have enough.

If anything, Lexa was aghast as to how the situation had even been allowed to escalate to this level, which then morphed into anger when she thought of _Heda,_ how he turned a blind eye to these people- _his people-_ and took and took and took, giving nothing back.  

For the rest of the day, Lexa scarcely had a moment to herself to breath; she all but ran from cot to cot, helping in whatever way she could whenever she could. And yet there was a single moment that stood out for her from all other hundreds, if not thousands, that had occurred during those frantic hours.

The woman had been brought after the sun had started to slip away. Her belly was swollen as if she had swallowed a small planet, a clear indication of her pregnancy, and her hissing through teeth and sweating brow quickly told them she was in labour. The man who had brought her in, presumably a relative, perhaps the husband or brother, had told them that she had refused to come in some five hours previously when the pains had started and her waters had broken.

“Didn’t want to… get in the way…” the woman said between pained groans.

Nyko had quickly grabbed Costia and Lexa on the way to a quieter room a little way down the hallway from the central hall, a place of privacy more appropriate to for birthing, for they were the only ones in close proximity and not otherwise engaged. In fact they had been talking to each other, or, perhaps more accurately, Lexa was trying, unsuccessfully I might add, to convince Costia to stop. Rest. She’d done enough, and would be doing nobody any good by exerting herself to the extent that she popped open her stiches. Costia didn’t listen though, of course.

Soon they had hauled the woman onto a makeshift cot, and the man accompanying her looked as worried as Lexa was clueless. She hadn’t spent enough years in her home village to witness any births she would remember, let alone assist with one. And yet there was Costia, in stark contrast, calm and collected, whispering words of reassurance and encouragement in _Trigedasleng_ , despite the pain evident in backs of her eyes.

“Come on, you can do this. Breathe with me, _sha?_ Then push. Ready?”

A nod, followed by inhalation.

“Push.”

It went on like this for what could have been long hours, or perhaps it was only a few minutes. Lexa did not know, but the loudest scream was followed by a distinct sigh of relief as the woman collapsed back into the blood-stained blankets with relief. Only there was no accompanying cry. Nor did the baby open its eyes.

“Why aren’t they crying? Please! Why aren’t they crying?” the man stammered as Costia wrapped a blanket around the baby, and began to rub the material against their skin furiously, on Nyko’s instruction, because he was too busy trying to stem the woman’s bleeding. If he let go she would bleed out.

And so the baby’s life was solely in Costia’s hands, but she did not falter as Lexa knew she herself would have.

“Come on. Come one, little one,” Lexa heard Costia say under her breath from over her shoulder, followed by something in the tongue of the Boat People, which sounded much alike a prayer.

Her hands were once again smeared with blood as she desperately trying to help her brother, passing this and that, holding this, more water, alcohol for sterilisation. Never had she felt so helpless, watching, chewing her lip, as Nyko’s eyebrows knotted together in intense concentration and a refusal to give up even on a seemingly helpless case.

“Any luck, Kostia?” he asked without looking up.

“Not yet.”

 _Not yet._ More refusal. Stubbornness. Clutching to the hope rapidly fading hope, like trying to grasp smoke with your bare hands.  She would not let this baby die. She would die herself before she would even consider letting that happen. She would not let this baby be lost, the way she had lost her baby brothers.

And, then… a whimper. A cry.

Costia cradled the child close to her breast, holding her as if they were her own, as if she wanted to shelter the child from all the bad in the world. Her eyes were closed in relief, a sigh escaping her lips.

Against all odds, the mother also survived.

“She’ll be out for a while,” Nyko explained to the man. “But, I believe that the worst has passed.”

The man’s eyes shimmered with tears of happiness, the tears of a man who had almost lost everything, but then fate had decided to be kind. This time.

The baby turned out to be a girl- all big brown eyes like her father’s and a gurgling toothless smile, and yet he was at a loss as to what to call her.

“What do you think?” he finally asked Costia.

Costia appeared surprised.

“Me?”                                        

He nodded.

“You brought her back to us. It is only fitting that you are the one to name her.”

Costia looked at the baby, but hardly hesitated.

“ _Hopen.”_

Hope.

 

*          *          *

 

Later Costia and Lexa were sitting on the roof of the Commander’s quarters, after the _juvaiheda_ claimed that it gave the most beautiful view in the whole of Polis. Lexa had been patient with helping Costia climb up there with her, understanding in her initial refusal but quietly persistent until she accepted her hand, warm in the cold night air.

The sky was dark, but oddly comforting and reassuring, sprinkled with stars, as the moon cast a silver sheen over the roofs of all of the buildings, where the illumination of the night torches did not quite reach. The city was very much still awake; you could still see the colours dance between one another across the dusty and cobble stoned ground in a sort of simple elegance, hear the continuous stream of chatter and bustle, smell smoke and sawdust.

Costia sat with her shoulders pushed backwards and the heels of her palms planted firmly against the roof tiles. Leaning back ever so slightly so that her back arched. She gazed over the city, knowing that Lexa was right; this truly was the most beautiful space to simply watch the world go by. Watch the world live.

“You did a good thing today, Leksa,” Costia told her.

Lexa shrugged, bashful in her praise.

Costia frowned.

“No. Don’t dismiss it like that. What you did today, that was big. The people won’t be forgetting it anytime soon. Do you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“It’s different now. The air… its fresh, hopeful, triumphant even. You’ve given them that. You can see that the morality of their hearts, and yours, is true. In one day you proved something your _Heda_ seems to have forgotten.”

“And what’s that?”

“That there is strength in unity. That we’re stronger together than we ever could be apart.”

 

*          *          *

 

After several weeks, Costia’s wounds were nearly fully healed, and Lexa’s all but gone aside from a pink scar which faded a little more every day. _Heda_ was yet to return from the wars. Endless reports came filing into the city walls, of blood and mud and an ever climbing death toll. An ever increasing number of people flooded through the doors of what had quickly been called the Place of Hope, some having lost lovers, some motherless, fatherless, and even parentless children.

And yet the unity of the people lasted over the common cause to care for one another. The unprecedented ability of the people’s capacity to maintain hope, to keep faith, was becoming a force to be reckoned with, and Lexa, under strict orders to remain where she was, was the catalyst for it all.

On one of the more quite days Lexa took it upon herself to take Costia out of the city, just a little way and under the ever vigilant eyes of Gustus. A surprise of sorts, something she had to show Costia, something that nobody aside from Gustus, Anya and her own family knew of. Her favourite place in fact, out of all the lands.

Costia had been sceptical about the idea at first, not wanting to leave when she knew that people might need her, but soon gave in when Lexa told her that they would only be a couple of hours, at most. Well, that and the way that Lexa jutted her bottom lip outwards a little and made the most of her puppy, forest green, eyes.

The trio did not stop as Gustus led the way, except only very briefly as Lexa paused and bent towards the ground where a single violet coloured flower grew towards the dappled sunlight from the leaf and pine needle litter which was sprinkled over the earth.

She held out to Costia, who smiled.

“For me?” she asked.

Lexa nodded, stepping forward to tuck the flower behind Costia’s ear so its purple petals just peaked out from beneath her dark curls, as a blush rose to her cheeks. She hoped that Costia didn’t notice, but Gustus certainly did.

He raised an eyebrow knowingly, only for Lexa’s redness to deepen.

They arrived at their destination not soon after, having followed a river to its source, to an opening in the forest and a waterfall. Ensuring that they had not been followed, they climbed over the rocks, upwards, listening to the water as it trickled past them and over their boots. There was something in the way that the mist gathered at its base, which they had soon passed through, and the way that the cascading water concealed them from the outside world that had provided a great deal of comfort to Lexa, and had done on numerous occasions over the years. It was a place which provided relief, a place where she could _breathe._

After a reasonable climb, they reached the entrance to a small tunnel. It was at this point that Gustus continued to climb a little further, taking up a position amongst the rocks, where he could keep an eye of everything below them without being seen himself, and, most importantly perhaps, leaving his niece and _juvaiheda_ alone.

Lexa guided Costia, who was growing every more curious by the moment, into the tunnel before pausing by a seemingly inconspicuous boulder, which she pushed the aside. The entrance which was revealed was initially dark as Lexa beckoned Costia to enter, as the only semblance of light which reached them was what bounced off the walls of the tunnel, in the glittering shapes on the hallowed out rock which mimicked the torrents of water that gushed past them. Lexa soon stepped in after her, their hands brushing momentarily, before she started to fumble with something on the ground to Costia’s left. A muttered curse slipped from the girl’s lips, but before Costia could comment, or offer any assistance, the flame of a torch sparked into life, the crackling beside her ear muffling the sounds of the water.

As the orange glow illuminated what stood before her, Costia realised the magnitude of what Lexa was revealing to her, and hence the trust she placed in the blacksmith’s hands; this place wasn’t just about protection from acid fog or a place to take shelter when the elements became even too harsh for the _juvaiheda_ to brave. No. The place was one, and quite possibly the only one, where Lexa’s yellow sash held no meaning except one of irrelevance. It was a place which blessed her with relief from her responsibilities, a quiet solitude of escape. Somewhere she could _breathe._

The little cave, lovingly carved out of the rock itself by human hands, was roughly square shaped, with round corners, and exuded warmth and comfort, a home from home of sorts. Having stepped further inside, Costia took the time to absorb everything, wondering around in time’s luxury.

On the right hand wall stood a low bed, probably big enough for two people, which despite the abundance of furs and blankets lacked the elegance of Lexa’s bed back in Polis with its intricate wooden carvings and posters. In fact, this was scarcely more than a glorified pack of pine needles, or maybe it was feathers, which acted as a reminder that, for all the aura of superiority that her intricate braids and sash equipped her with, Lexa was no less of a lover for the simple life than she was. She was no less than an ordinary human being at heart. 

The majority of the length of the back wall was lined with book shelves which though perhaps had once been straight and level when they were first made they certainly weren’t now. Some of these shelves were the home of numerous volumes of old books, bound in worn leather, donning yellow pages which depicted times so long before them that their tales of triumph were just an ever receding echo. Others were used for storage of what Costia suspected were medicinal supplies, dried herbs and antidotes, along with sewing needles and rolls of spare thread, spare buckles and straps, spare arrow heads. The sections of walls beneath the shelves, the height from the ground up to just over Costia’s knees, were not bare however, as she may have expected. Instead they were covered in scribbles, juvenile drawings of stick men and women and animals, and what she recognised to be the alphabet, also traced with a young child’s wobbling handwriting clutching a writing utensil certainly not has dexterous as a pencil or quill, but maybe chalk or charcoal perhaps.

Now standing beside her, Lexa crouched to her knees and drew Costia’s attention to one word in particular. A name, to be more precise:

_Aleksandria._

“That was me,” Lexa offered in clarification. “About... fourteen summers ago I suppose. I can’t have been older than a couple of summers when I wrote that. I hadn’t even been claimed.”

A smile crept to her lips as Costia pictured a little Lexa, all bushy upbraided hair, wild and curly, with big green eyes like emeralds and a button nose, stretching up as high as her little legs could allow her.

“I didn’t realise that you name wasn’t Leksa,” Costia said, still smiling.

Lexa laughed, shrugging.

“Very few people knew me by that name outside of my family, and when I was claimed that was the name I chose to be known by,” she explained.

“You get the opportunity to change your name when you’re claimed?”

Lexa nodded.

“Yes, though most of the time I haven’t bothered. There was only one time when I changed it completely… it was a very long time ago, right back to just after the Armageddon. I can’t even remember what I changed it to, or what it was originally. I just remember that whatever it was I really didn’t like it.”

Costia traced on of the drawings with her fingers, a stick woman holding a bow and arrow with out of proportion limbs and what might have been a crown on her head.

“How does that work, then?” Costia asked.

“How does what work?”

“You are always claimed when the _Heda_ is still alive, correct?”

“Yes.”

“So, how can your soul be in two places at once?”

After several moments of trying to articulate the right words, and failing, Lexa took to drawing in the red dust of the cave to aid her explanation.

“My soul doesn’t split as much, more like... stretches.”

She drew two circles, and a line between them which connected them.

“Say the line is my soul. _Heda_ has a greater affinity for my soul’s substance than I do, as _juvaiheda,_ because they are older and wiser, and so the majority of my soul occupies them rather than me. My soul is skewed _away_ from me.”

Lexa added arms and hands to the left hand circle bent towards the line, as if it were a rope and the _Heda_ was pulling it towards them.

“However, as I grow, get older and learn the balance of my soul’s substance becomes more balanced.”

She added arms to the _juvaiheda_ circle now two, as if both circles are equal in strength.

“Eventually there comes a time when _I_ have a greater affinity for my soul’s strength and energy than _Heda,_ and so it all occupies me instead.”

Lexa pushed the dust away from the _Heda_ circle towards her own, with it erasing the line until there was a bundle of the rope, the soul, where she was. Then she rubs the other now soulless circle out.

“And that is when they die and you ascend as _Heda?”_

“Yes.”

“What governs when it that happens?”

Lexa hesitated.

“The death of _Heda,”_ she eventually said. _“_ There can be times when it nearly happens but doesn’t, if they are ever close to death but actually survive,”

“You can’t exactly predict it, then.”

Lexa shook her head.

“No. It would be a lot easier if we could.”

“And does it hurt? When they are killed and all of your soul passes to you?”

Lexa didn’t fail to notice Costia’s choice of words, didn’t fail to notice the use of the word _killed._

“Yes.”

She didn’t elaborate further, nor did Costia encourage it.

 

*         *         *

 

A little while later, having examined every drawing and letter on that wall, from the hands of not only Lexa, but her siblings too and all of her relatives, Lexa and Costia found themselves sitting behind the waterfall, the spray damping their hair and skin enough to be refreshing, but not unpleasant. There was a comfortable quietness between them as they admired the little short lived rainbows that came into and out of existence, but it was Lexa who broke the comfortable silence.

“I’ve been thinking about something you said the other day.”

“What’s that?”

“You were saying that we are stronger when united.”

To this Costia remained quiet, though her eyes, shimmering in the light which trickled through the torrents of water, encouraged her to continue.

“It got me thinking- unity, I mean. I’ve started to wonder if there is possibility in uniting all of the twelve clans.”

A pause.

“It wouldn’t be easy.”

“No, of course not. But, think about it, Costia. Think of the stability it could provide, the progress that could be made. How strong we’d be.”

Listening to Lexa being so keen, so passionate and hopeful about her vision for un-grim future made Costia realise that this was the spark- the spark that, if kindled enough, could be the birth of revolution. The spark that could tip their world over the edge of grasping onto tradition, only for them to rise, almost like a phoenix from the ashes, and build something better than they could have ever imagined.

“Leksa,” Costia said, a smile on her lips. “I think that the day you ascend as _Heda_ may just be a blessed day for us all.”

Though Lexa shouldn’t have been surprised by the utterance of these words, for in truth Costia only echoed what all of Polis’s citizens were thinking, she was. Normally she was used to criticism, always pushed to be better, smarter, and praised only just enough to maintain motivation.

“You really think so?”

Costia nodded, a quiet assurance, a firm conclusive stamp in her faith in the girl that she would, with pride, one day say was her _Heda._

“I know so.”

When Costia’s eyes refocused on the girl beside her, having momentarily glanced at the waterfall and admired the way the light shimmered through its torrents, she realised how unintentionally close they were sitting, to the point that she could feel Lexa’s steady warm breaths against her cheek.

“Leksa,” Costia whispered. “Do you know the phrase _carpe diem?”_

Lexa looked notably confused, but dared not move from her position in close proximity to Costia. She wanted this.

Lexa shook her head, hardly trusting herself to speak. For all the world it seemed like she had forgotten how to, initially.

“It’s Latin,” Costia explained, “one of the oldest languages, from the time before… The full expression is _carpe diem quam minimum credula pastero.”_

Lexa tipped her head to one side ever so slightly, like a curious child, her forest green eyes glittering whilst the corners of her lips rose into a smile.

“And what does that mean?”

“It means: seize the day, trust tomorrow as little as you may.”

Lexa wasn’t sure how long they sat there in the pause that followed, before a force between them blossomed, or perhaps it had been there all along and only now surfaced, drawing them towards each other as gravity pulled them towards the earth. When their lips met Costia was surprised by their tenderness, tasting a quiet confidence which promised more and gave her stomach butterflies. 

It wasn’t long before Costia’s hands reached up to cup Lexa’s cheeks, her fingers and thumbs taking care to trace and remember every detail, the rise and fall of her cheekbones. There was the smallest part of her mind which scolded her for being so drawn to the _juvaiheda of all people,_ but the way Lexa’s hands slipped around Costia’s waist, and then come to rest in the small of her back, her fingers spreading across the fabric of her upper garment, the way she pulled her closer still so their bodies were flush against each other and encouraging Costia to straddle her hips extinguished this thought like water to a flame.

When they finally pulled away for air, already feeling the absence of the other’s lips, Lexa pressed their foreheads together and inhaled. Away from the fires of her forge Costia smelt fresh, clean, like woodland flowers. Or, more specifically, like the purple flower which Lexa had plucked and tucked behind the girl’s ear.

Their lips brushed as Lexa spoke, both of their pairs of eyes still closed.

“Carpe diem, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Lexa smiled.

“I like it.”

“I thought you would.”

Lexa could feel the grin on Costia’s lips as she enveloped them again, only a little less bashfully this time.

She was leaning over Lexa, who was flat on her back and had her hands buried in Costia’s dark locks, when Gustus had to cough to make his presence known, for otherwise the two lovebirds would have been oblivious to the world.

Carpe diem indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if parts of the last few scenes could be considered as fluff but hey. 
> 
> I felt we needed a little bit of happiness you know?
> 
> Also want to stress, if you didn't pick it up that Lexa is 16 here and so Costia is about that age as well. I'll probably go back a few chapters and add that in somewhere to make it a bit clearer, but just so you know for future chapters :)
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments. I can also be found on tumblr at praisethefkingbees if you wanna bake me cookies or something to aid my writer's block, give me any feedback or just hang out.


	6. patience may be a virtue, but time is not a luxury, (at least not for us)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally updated. Sorry about that.

As days, weeks, and a month or so passed the hours of daylight plummeted. Even when the sun had reached its peak in the sky above them the condensed air from their breaths could be seen spiralling from their lips. The cold air stole the warmth from their lips, their skin, causing their teeth to chatter, their lips and skin to pale and even turn a little blue.

Lexa spent a great deal of her time at the _pla  hopen_ , or Place of Hope, so named after the child that, between the three of them, Nyko, Costia and herself had helped bring into the world. As it was, the baby was doing well. Despite her somewhat traumatic birth she was strong, a fighter. Determined, just like Lexa was. She hoped that before too long Hopen would be able to live in a world free of the political unease and these war ridden lands.  She hoped that _no_ child would.

But, that day was not going to be today. _Heda_ was still yet to return from war, though the tales of his, and the warriors’, toils did not fail to meet the city gates; tales of an ever climbing death toll, of the colour that the damp earth turns when enough blood has been split on it and then thoroughly trodden upon for extra measure.  And if that wasn’t enough, Lexa was beginning to feel restless, jittery as if she were expecting, anticipating, something… Anything. She could feel the imbalance of her power inside her chest, it made her heart race and slow down only seconds apart, made her head spin before moments of the utmost clarity. On occasion it made her dizzy, and, at times, it even felt as if she was losing her mind.

It did not take long for these things, uncharacteristic of her usual self, to begin affecting her training, for even though Lexa had rightfully gained warrior status Anya was insistent on the continued pursuit of being better, faster, stronger. They trained one on one, and though Lexa’s abilities were by no means diminished, her skin bruised a little more easily, bled a little longer, ached a little more. 

In the midst of close combat, hidden away from the crowds in a backstreet square hidden in an inconspicuous corner of the city, both Lexa and Anya had disarmed one another, and so now they fought with nothing more than their bloody fists.

A precisely aimed punch and knuckles angled just right produced a loud crack from the bridge of Anya’s nose, followed pained grunt. Lexa had broken Anya’s nose. Again.

“ _Empleni.”_

Lexa was more than grateful for the respite. They’d been at it for hours, clawing at each other as if they were savage animals. Her chest rising and falling heavily, with her coat and yellow sash long cast aside in the dust, she pressed the palms of her hands into her knees, and crouched slightly. When Anya offered her a skin of water Lexa accepted in silence, relishing the freshness it brought to her lips, for the cool air had kept it chilled. It made a pleasant change from endless skins of warm water she’d drunk in the summer months.

There was hardly any skin left on Lexa’s knuckles. Somehow she knew that Costia would scold her for that whenever they both had a spare moment to be together. Said moments had developed a tendency to be far and few between, and they were trying to keep the nature of their relationship under the radar, for they both knew the potential dangers and had slipped into a subtle routine without the need for discussing it at great length, something else for which Lexa for one was immensely grateful.

Despite their subtlety, many had suspected though nothing had been formally confirmed. That, and said suspecting individuals had the decency to say nothing (or perhaps they feared the consequences). The only people privy to this supposedly closely guarded secret were those closest to the pair, a number which, in any other circumstance or reality may have been considered saddeningly low: Anya, Lexa’s brothers and sister, and Gustus. And yet, for all the subtlety in the world, nothing could hide the way their eyes light up when they landed on each other, be it because they were beside one another or a fleeting glance across the street, a spark in the gloom of their times and smiles exchanged when they thought no one else was looking. Such a mirrored spark in the green and blue orbs, as destined to be beside one another as the earth and the ocean… very few ever found such a connection with anyone in this lifetime, and sometimes even others.

And such a bond is so strong it leaves a mark, on that cannot be seen or touched, for it lies within the very skin of our being.

Love.

It was love. There was no denying it.

But alas, in that moment Lexa’s shoulders ached beyond belief and the blood which lined her knuckles had started to crust. She was certainly not the epitome of glamour in her present state, and nor was Anya, who had swaddled her nose in already bloodied cloth and was holding it tight.

“Are you okay?”

Anya grumbled.

“ _Sha._ Are you?”

Lexa nodded.

“You should probably get your knuckles looked at.”

“Your nose too, Onya.”

“Is that an order, _juvaiheda?”_ Anya scoffed.

Lexa smiled.  

“No, Onya. It is merely a suggestion, and one with good intentions.”

Anya rolled her eyes, before pushing her dirty blonde hair out of her face.

“Fine. You go and see Naikou and meet me back here as soon as you are patched up.”

“You will not come and be treated by my brother?”

“No, _juvaiheda._ You know as well as I that preferential treatment is only for the privileged few.”

Knowing better than to stay put and argue with her mentor, the pair headed in different directions; Lexa to the north of the city and _pla Hopen¸_ where Nyko would surely be, and Anya to the west to the seek the aid of Metis, the healer who had been the first to tend Costia’s wounds.

If Lexa focused hard enough, she could remember flashes of her childhood, running through fields with grass taller than she was, watching Ember and Nyko and Lupos play fighting with wooden swords while she struggled to keep up on her little legs. When she was just a girl, no one out of the ordinary, and surely nobody to be treated any differently. When she was just _Aleksandria kom Trikru._

Before the trials. And before the blood.

 

 

*         *          *

 

With her knuckles laced in bandages, Lexa took a detour to Costia’s forge en route to meet Anya again for, no doubt, further seemingly endless hours of physical exertion.  It was late afternoon, and the sky outside stained with pink streaks smudged imperfectly amongst the blue and the white of the lingering clouds as she stepped inside the modest dwelling, the heat hitting her immediately, only now, with each visit, she grew a little more immune to it.

Costia smiled when she caught sight of her, putting down the blade she was working on, and stepping back from the flames. She wiped her hands down her flimsy sleeveless tunic, which was riddled with holes, burnt in places and smudged with grease and sweat. Her pale skin appeared several shades darker with the layers of soot smudged across it, even on her face, though her dark blue eyes were still as bright as ever, perhaps even more so with the flickering flames which reflected in them.

Costia placed her hands on her hips.

‘ _Juvaiheda._ Does your sword need sharpening?” she teased.

Lexa rolled her eyes.

“No…”

She shuffled closer, gleeful in her teasing which caused a blush to rise to Lexa’s cheeks.

‘Then is there something else I can do for you?’

“Kostia, I was wondering… Would you have time to… like to come and dine with me later?”

“ _Sha_. I would like that. I’ll need to finish here first though.

“Of course. Take as long as you need, Kos.”

Costia smiled, her dimples just visible underneath the soot smudged across her face, before placing a small kiss on the end of Lexa’s nose.

“And you try not to get yourself injured anymore, alright? Don’t think I haven’t noticed those bandaged hands you’re trying to hide behind your back.”

 

*          *          *

 

When she arrived outside of Lexa’s closed door, which for all the world appeared as ordinary as any other, Costia wasn’t surprised by the silence she heard on the other side. In private, Lexa was a relatively quiet individual, and perfectly happy to sit in the quiet and enjoy a moment while it lasted. The last time she and Costia has found a spare moment to be together they had sat on Lexa’s bed, with its intricate carvings on its posts, Costia on her stomach working on several new designs, jotting numbers and calculations which were meaningless to Lexa in the corner of a sheet of parchment, whilst Lexa sat against the headboard, reading a book of poetry, of all things.  Sometimes she would read out the odd line to her, and Costia would tease her for being such a romantic. Who would have known?

When Lexa had first shown Costia her bedroom, she was almost surprised at the lack of personal touches, aside from the bookcase. But, she soon remembered that she had already been shown the cave, which amounted to so much more. After all, this room served for functionality and practicality, a place to sleep when in the capitol. Most importantly, this room gave nothing away were it to be raided, for all the personal items and things of importance lay in the cave, safely hidden away.

Once Costia had entered the room, her nostrils were greeted by a pleasant onslaught of sweet aromas, the source being whatever was concealed on the two covered food platters which sat on the wooden table a few paces away to her left. Gazing to the right, however, Costia found her girlfriend asleep upon the covers of her bed. She was on her side, so that Costia could see her peaceful countenance, her left cheek pressed against one of the pillows whilst her largely un-braided hair was strewn across the others. Her long coat and yellow sash were folded neatly at the foot of the bed, almost entirely out of sight and mind. For a moment Costia just watched as Lexa’s chest and shoulders raised and fell with easy and unhurried breaths, as if she had all the time in the world to do whatever she needed to when she woke.

Having padded her way over the bed softly, carefully avoiding the points on the wooden panels which would have creaked under her weight, she pressed a kiss in between Lexa’s eyebrows. The other girl stirred beneath her and muttered something inaudible before her eyes fluttered open, her eyelashes brushing Costia’s cheek.

“Alright there, sleepy head?” Costia whispered.

“Mmm,” Lexa mumbled in her sleepy haze. “Even better now you are here.”

“Oh _shama_?*”

“ _Shama.”_

“Mmm. Well, as sweet as that is, Leksa, the food on the table isn’t going to fly over here.”

“Maybe it will if I ask nicely,” Lexa smiled.

Costia just rolled her eyes and moved to sit down, shortly followed by Lexa. They sat close and throughout the duration the pair sat close, occasionally eating off of each other’s plates, talking and laughing softly about trivial things. And as the candles continued to burn down, the glowing wax trickling down their sides as if they were tracing the path of ivy vines, Lexa knew that she’d never quite felt this feeling before… this feeling of content, of simple uncomplicated happiness.

At one point or another, though neither of them knew exactly when, they returned to the bed and made themselves a nest amongst the pillows. This time it was Costia who rested against the headboard, and Lexa’s whose head rested on her chest whilst Costia absentmindedly twirled her fingers through her hair. As their breathing came in sync music from the streets below trickled into the room between the gaps of the shutters, providing a rhythm for the movement of Costia’s fingers.

“How are you knuckles?”

“They’re a little sore, but okay,” Lexa answered without looking up, not wanting to move.

“And are you still aching?”

This time Lexa nodded.

“A little,” she admitted.

“Come here, then.”

Costia shuffled, encouraging Lexa to sit in between her legs, much to her initial reluctance. She raised her knees so that Lexa could rest her elbows on them before, with Lexa’s back to her, she tugged at Lexa’s green shirt.

“Is it okay if I take this off?”

Uncharacteristic of Lexa, she hesitated, all of a sudden nervous, though Costia was quick to pick up on it.

“You don’t have to,” she told her.

Lexa shook her head.

“No, no; it’s okay. Go ahead.”

“Okay.”

Costia’s fingers curled at the hem of her shirt before she pulled the garment upwards, pushing it off of Lexa’s raised arms until her upper body was bare aside from her chest bindings. As her arms came to rest on Costia’s knees again her thumbs began to relieve the tension which lingered in Lexa’s trapezius, having pushed her hair over her shoulder. At first it was uncomfortable, but the pads of Costia’s thumbs were gentle against Lexa’s sore skin, even in their roughness from the day’s work in the forge. They were also warm, like a flame.

A contended hum escaped Lexa’s lips, her eyes closed and neck arched ever so slightly.

“Is that feeling a little better?”

Lexa hummed again.

“Mmm. Much better, _mochof._ ”

Costia slid her hands down Lexa’s back, massaging the muscles immediately either side of her spine. As she did this she pressed a handful of kisses in a ring at the base of Lexa’s neck, noticing the lack of tattoos on any of her exposed skin, but the abundance of scars, some red and fresh, others thin white lines, small and not so small, and faded with age.

“No tattoos?” she asked.

“No, not yet. I haven’t really thought of anything I’d like to get.”

Costia smiled.

“I’m sure you will.”

“Speaking of which, have you been using the healing balm Nyko gave you?”

“Erm… sometimes?” Costia answered, guiltily.

Lexa turned to face her, one eyebrow raised. In the low light emitted by the candles her eyes were the dark green of the champagne bottles of old, her pupils wide and dilated. In the winter months her skin was losing its olive hue it had gained during the endless hours of sunlight, making the shadows falling over her cheekbones more defined than ever.

“But not always?”

“ _Shama._ Not always.”

It was Lexa’s turn to roll her eyes this time.

“What am I going to do with you exactly?”

“I could ask you the same question, with you and your endless cuts and bruises. And breaking Anya’s nose.”

“Who told you that?”

“I have my sources.”

“Really?” Lexa asked in earnest and seriousness.

Costia laughed, shaking her head.

“No, you _banwada._ I have eyes, you know.”

“I had noticed.” Lexa smiled. “They are very nice, actually. Have I told you that?”

“You might have mentioned it once or twice. As have you, Leks, for the record. Did I tell _you_ that?”

“You might have mentioned it once or twice,” Lexa mimicked, before leaning in to kiss her.

The movement of their lips was not rushed, but nor were they hesitant or reserved. Exploratory perhaps would be a better word, as Lexa glazed her tongue around Costia’s bottom lip as her fingers laced through Lexa’s curls. In response, Costia’s lips parted a little more giving Lexa entrance. They’d been here before, this waltz of lips and tongues but this, now, was different. More needy. Hungrier even. And so, unavoidably, teeth bashed against each other and noses were pressed just a little bit, and quite a lot harder on some occasions, against cheeks. Hands roamed the curves of already bared skin, tracing and remembering ever detail, every bump and every graze, until bindings were unwound a little clumsily, as would always be the first time.

It wasn’t long, or perhaps it was, until the pair were as naked as each other and you could no longer tell where one ended and the other began, the candles still burning down. Just for a moment, the sort that stays and lingers a while when fate wants to be a little kind, they were free from all of the complications of their world and existed in their own warm, soft, comforting bubble of reality.

But as every moment begins, it must also end. And sometimes, it is that that is the tragedy of living.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if you were expecting some a little more steamy, but I don't think it would have fitted. That and writing smut is something I find as alien and confusing as quadratic equations (not that I actually know what those are any more, but that is a technicality that we can ignore). Also not as long as previously, but quality over quantity (I hope). 
> 
> I would love to tell you that the next chapter will be up next week, but you know me well enough by now and so that is unlikely to happen. I can try, and it is not outside of the realms of possibility that that could happen, but realism is a key concept here. 
> 
> As always thanks to everyone for your reads and kudos. I am keen to hear your thoughts though. What do you think will happen next chapter? And what do you think happened in the trials? They are an idea that popped into my head as I finished this up about five minutes ago, initially inspired by another fic that I can't remember but will let you know when I do. I will be taking a completely different angle however, so fear not there'll be no copyright issues here!
> 
> See you next chapter (soon-ish-maybe),
> 
> Lucy. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Empleni - enough  
> Shama - yeah, informal 'yes'


	7. beyond the point of no return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this chapter was entitled 'Home Is A Lover in Low Light' inspired by Chrmdpoet's amazing fic 'Lover in Low Light' (which if you haven't read then what exactly have you been doing with your life), but, unsurprisingly this no longer fits. And because of the inspiration from Chrmdpoet for the beginning of this chapter, and generally, this chapter eapecially is dedicated to her :)

As would become tradition, it was Lexa who woke first the following morning, but the sun had no yet risen from its place of rest on the eastern horizon. Only the smallest stub of a single candle continued to burn on the table to the left of the bed where she and Costia laid, emitting a flickering orange glow and casting long shadows about the sparsely decorated room.

Uncharacteristic of Lexa, for she normally rose from bed shortly after waking, she remained in Costia’s embrace, their limbs tangled, for a long while before moving at all, in part of not wanting to wake her girl, but also because she didn’t want the moment to end. There was a definite warmth shared between them, for the sheets outside of where they lay were cool and crisp, although they were, unsurprisingly, just as tangled.

In this low light, Costia’s hair was the darkest Lexa had ever seen, her pale skin either thoroughly immersed in the flickering shadows or illuminated, white as ivory, in the candle light. The curve of her waist was smooth beneath Lexa’s arm, which at some point in the night had laid there to rest, her hand placed just off centre between her shoulder blades. Beneath her palm she could feel the defining raised jaggedness of a nearly formed scar, one of the numerous Costia now bore from her lashings. She thought of the art beneath her fingers also, now ravaged, but still profoundly beautiful, and wondered whether Costia would have in re-done over the scar tissue, once all the wounds were fully healed.  

Eventually however, and with reluctance, Lexa began to untangle herself from not only her lover, but the bedsheets as well, only for Costia to stir and groan.

“Mmmwhered’youthinkyou’regoing,” she mumbled through mostly closed lips, not yet opening her eyes. She pulled Lexa back towards just as she had placed one foot on the wooden panels, a contact she really didn’t relish, causing her to tumble back in again.

“Kos, I really need to get up,” Lexa replied, sprawled over her.

“No.”

“Yes. _We_ need to get up.”

Costia’s eyebrows knitted together, lines of defiance forming in her frown even though she still hadn’t opened her eyes.

“No,” she repeated. “I don’t want to.”

Lexa rolled her eyes before bending over and placing a kiss at the junction between Costia’s neck and shoulder, just above the collar bone- a place which sported a darkening bruise from the night before after Lexa had discovered it was an absolute weakness- before pecking her way up Costia’s neck to the base of her jaw and nibbling at her ear. (To say she had grown confidence after the previous night of lovemaking would probably be an understatement.)

“Not even for this?”

Costia rolled her head towards Lexa’s, finding her lips and kissing her fully on the mouth. Having taken her by surprise, and relishing in the fact she took the opportunity to roll on top of her, so she straddled Lexa’s hips, not breaking the lock of their lips once. With her fingers spread across her abdomen, Costia traced the outline of her lover’s toned stomach, gradually working upwards towards her breasts and squeezing them gently, and then not so gently as she begun to roll her hips.

A moan radiated from Lexa’s throat.

Costia pulled away saying, “I didn’t realise that was going to be part of the deal, my love,” in response to Lexa’s earlier question that she had quite forgotten about, before remembering after staring at her blankly for a few moments.

“Me neither,” Lexa breathed heavily in response, who couldn’t ignore the building heat between her legs.

Costia got off of her, in her full naked glory, leaving Lexa, who couldn’t help but stare, dishevelled amongst the bed sheets.

Costia raised her eyebrows teasingly.

“Missing me already?”

Lexa blushed.

“A little,” she admitted, which only deepened the red against her light skin even further. It was only know she had any reason to miss her tanned summer complexion.

Costia grinned smugly.

“Fear not, we can finish _that_ off later.”

She picked Lexa’s bindings and pants before throwing them at her, hitting her squarely in the face.

“Now come on; for someone who was so keen to get up you don’t seem to be moving very fast, _juvaiheda.”_

The pair pulled on their clothes a little slower than they probably needed to, stealing sideways unbashful glances at each other. However, when they both fully clothed Lexa appeared to be having trouble affixing her yellow sash... for her mind remained quite elsewhere.

“By Gaia,” Costia laughed as Lexa swore under her breath. “Come here you _banwada._ The mighty _juvaiheda_ defeated by a sash, of all things. How did you manage without me exactly? _”_

“You really are quite horrible to me sometimes, Kos.”

Costia scoffed.

“You love me really,” she said without really thinking, before meeting Lexa’s eyes and seeing her earnest expression. 

“Maybe I do,” Lexa said quietly, not breaking her gaze before smiling and taking Costia’s hands in her own.

“Kostia, I-”

Lexa didn’t get the chance to finish that sentence. At least not that time round, for suddenly a blinding pain ripped through her chest, followed by a sharp inhalation of breath and the immediate dropping of Costia’s hands, her hands clutching at the source of the pain.

Words failed her. She couldn’t breathe.  She couldn’t hear Costia as she screamed her name, or her own cries. The inside of her chest burnt, a raging forest fire dissipating quickly through the rest of her torso and down her limbs, tearing her cells apart.

Somehow, she knew, though, that she, in _this_ body, wasn’t dying, but _Heda_ was. She could feel as his life slipped from him, as blood spilled from his wound, and feel the movement of _Heda’s_ energy towards her, see Costia’s wide panicked eyes before her own _and_ the menacing grin of _Heda’s_ killer… the double vision and feeling, _double everything_ made her head spin.

By now Costia’s screams had alerted those nearby that something was _very_ wrong. Anya and Gustus were the first to sprint to the scene, but to Lexa everything was happening in slow motion, as if a supreme being had caught time’s winged chariot between their thumb and fore finger and was dragging it painstakingly through water. She felt Costia’s roughly cut nails scrape across her skin as someone pulled her from her, she couldn’t tell who because now everything had blurred.

A quiet scream tumbled from out between Lexa’s clenched teeth as she ascended, her eyes rolling back into her head and her body bending backwards at a contorted angle as a series of images shot across her mind…

_This is what destruction looks like; this is the aftermath of your species’ capacity for cruelty, for greed and inability for tolerance. The air you breathe is poisoned from radiation which burst forth from the bombs, deprived of oxygen which fuelled the flames and now only smoke remains, black and choking, interspersed with the smell of blood; it clings to your clothes and invades your lungs making you gag. The once great towers of concrete with their great windows now lie in ruin; piles of rubbles and dust clouds, scattered, shattered glass which crunches beneath your feet. Above, the sky is stained red and the last of the fearful flee to the skies, the stars. You are alone now. The remaining few, the frightened, the broken and the helpless look to you, Commander. They look to you to lead them, in a world that is no longer and where once held true beliefs now stand for nothing at all._

_Many years later, you clutch their limp body to your chest, but they are gone- torn from this world too soon, too soon. Spasms of grief shake your chest to your very soul, your little one so good and pure,_ too _pure perhaps for this world. There is emptiness where there should a fluttering heartbeat, silence where there should be laughter, should be tears, cold where there should be heat radiating from their little body- now still and so very, very cold, their eyes, like glass, staring into nothing, unfocused and never to see true again, a heart never to know love and joy. Moments never to be, memories never to be made. Gone, gone forever. You don’t know how you’ll get over the pain, but you do._

Next are memories familiar to Lexa, but of a time she had tried so very hard to forget: the trials. But, somehow these were different and it took a little while for her to realise why before it hit her; she wasn’t seeing, remembering, from her own eyes, from her own perspective, but the old _Heda’s._

 _You have dreamt about all of them somewhere along the line these past few years, but now seeing them all gathered before you is an odd sensation. There’s a buzz, a hum at the base of base of your neck, and you know that your_ juvaiheda _is here among them. Yet they all look so young, so blissful in their childhood ignorance, that it hurts you to know that you are about to snatch it away from them. Soon, with no doubt, all but one shall be dead. That is just the way._

 _In the first task a series of five seemingly random objects are lined up on a table inside you tent. They come in, one by one, having waited outside patiently and bowing, as they should, in greeting to you before you ask them to pick one. You know, of course_ you _know which one they should be reaching for, the one that has been in your procession since the beginning, since the bombs. The grey marble, worn down into an almost spherical shape after all these years of holding, something you first found in the ruins, though you can’t remember the city anymore._

 _Only three pass. Those who do not are killed, though this wasn’t always the way. You don’t like doing it, but after the time, several incarnations back, a reject had risen up against you and tried to ascend by force, killing your_ juvaiheda _in the process, it is not a risk you are willing to take again._

 _The next task is the trees. The three are tied up high above the ground, by their wrists with rope. They must get themselves down without aid, and they have nothing they can use except their teeth. Here, it is clear as you watch that the one at the end, the_ Azgeda _boy is not going to survive, he is struggling too much, the rope cutting into his wrists and his arms pulled too taut above his head. That leaves the two girls, one from_ Flokru _and one from_ Trikru. _The_ Flokru _girl is quick, but brutal in her movements, savage even. She grunts frequently and there is a lot of blood, her wrists raw. As for the other girl, she is less speedy but quieter,_ her _movements careful, deliberate and calculated. Once she is free from her bonds she makes it to the ground with an effortless grace, whilst the other girl jumps and sprains her ankle._

 _The final task is the most brutal, though. The pair are sedated and given a deadly poison for which there is no antidote. Only_ Heda’s _spirit can protect one of them from being burnt inside out. Watching them, you feel it instantly- the pull towards the_ Trikru _girl. You are not surprised when she survives and wakes unharmed. You learn her name is Aleksandria._

_But Aleksandria doesn’t forget the sight she sees when she looks over to see the girl’s twisted corpse. It still haunts her dreams sometimes._

Lexa’s eyes opened and she struggled to her feet in a daze. There was a new aura about her, a renewed strength and a sort of brutal determination that would be both admired and feared. Everyone in the room bowed before her, as was their custom, on their knees and their heads bent down, concealing their faces from view, but amidst the _Hedas_ she caught Costia’s stare, for she was the only one not quite looking downwards.

There was no other way to describe it. In truth, her gaze was divided two-fold; firstly in admiration, and the other in fear,  her blue eyes in turmoil like a stormy ocean.  To tightly embrace, or cower in submission and expectation to her leader. _That_ was the question, but somehow, in her bow and upwards gaze she did both; defiance _and_ respect.

Lexa’s green eyes sparked with a new inner light, burning as brightly as the sun. There was no time for haste, she had to get to the battle field. She could feel them loosing. Reinforcements had to be brought in.

“Ready my horse,” are the first words she says. “Gather those warriors who are on call, and anyone who is qualified, and can be trusted, to fight. Meet me by the steps in no less than ten minutes.”

“Yes, _Heda.”_

Gustus, Anya, the _fisa_ left swiftly, after bowing once again, leaving Costia and Lexa alone. For a while neither of them said anything, unsure of how to proceed. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air, stagnating the space between them, but eventually it was Costia who moved first. She unfastened Lexa’s yellow sash from its position below her collarbone, before folding it and placing it at the foot of the bed. Its colour was no longer applicable.

“I’m still me, Kos,” Lexa said quietly as she turned around.

“I know,” came the response, a little strangled and on edge.

“I really need to go.”

“I know.”

But as Lexa made to leave, not knowing what else could be said, Costia grabbed her hand, pulling her back towards her.

“Wait.”

They kissed briefly, chaste. Costia held her lover’s face in between her palms.

“Come back to me.”

Lexa nodded.

“I will.”

As Lexa made her way through _pla den Hopen_ she barely registered the whispers of “ _Heda!”_ and bows. She was almost certain she was in the middle of telling Costia something very important before.

 

 

It was all over by the time they reached the battle field, guided only by the pull in _Heda’s_ chest. They had been obliterated in their defeat, many slaughtered and few survivors.

The story went that the Northern Alliance had attacked under the cover of darkness, taking the encampment by surprise. The warriors fought valiantly, bloodily, but were undoubtedly loosing, when their lines were ambushed from behind by a large cohort of Reapers. They did not distinguish between the old _Heda’s_ warriors and those of the Northern Alliance, led by the _Azgeda_ prince, both sides suffering heavy losses. And yet the _Azgeda_ prince was smart; he used the carnage and confusion to catch _Heda_ off guard and run his blade through his chest, piercing his heart. Once he had fallen limp, face first into the mud, he and his warriors retreated just as the day broke.

Lexa stood looking down over blood stained wasteland of the battlefield, gazing over the smoking remains of her people’s toils, with an almost stoic expression, aside from her eyes which burnt with rage.

Her people, the dead, lay scattered, tossed aside like rag dolls and half drowned in mud in every direction. Their faces were so torn and half consumed by the cannibalistic ways of the Reapers that many of them were unidentifiable. This was not a good death; it was needless and unjust. And yet it was not just those fighting for her that had been lost, but those of the Northern Alliance too. Lexa’s heart ached for them all, for they were _all_ her people.

They couldn’t keep fighting each other like this- trying, and failing, to tackle the Mountain Men and the Reapers at the same time. It would end them all, just had it nearly had done before with the bombs.

This scale of loss of life could not continue.

She would unite the clans. She _had_ to.

Now the cage had opened; the bird had flown.

There was no going back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies this took so long. This update was meant to come yesterday, but after the first hit of inspiration in weeks my laptop decided that it wanted to restart and spend three hours updating Windows. It didn't save my work of course. 
> 
> Anyway. I'll be interested to hear your thoughts on this chapter. And on a slightly lighter note, I hope you all had a Merry Christmas/ Happy Holidays! 
> 
> See you soon, 
> 
> Lucy 
> 
> (You can find me at praisethefkingbees on tumblr if you want to say hi or yell at me)


	8. love is trepid steps taken in dangerous waters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is nearly double the normal length, so don't say I don't love you guys.

It quickly became clear that Lexa, as _Heda,_ was vastly different from her predecessor, and that her ascendance marked the beginning of a new era. She was not rash or cruel, she was fair and just. She did not inject fear into her people or demand their respect as the previous _Heda_ had done, knowing that it had backfired, but this was also not how she worked, _not_ how she wanted to rule. _Heda Leksa_ earned the respect of her people, for beneath her slit frame there was a quiet and assured strength coupled with intelligence and tactical thinking as opposed to brutality. She may not have been the most fearful, as of yet, of the pre-existing Commanders, not the shiniest of all the gems, but she had the resilience of pure diamond. Above all Lexa listened to her people, and was determined to do what was right by them all, to pick up the pieces she had been left with and forge something entirely new; something _better._

Her scouts had reported the Northern Alliance were retreated, though undoubtedly this was not a permanent move, towards the Northern Mountains. Most importantly, this gave her time. Messengers were sent out to all of the Southern clans for the white flags to be raised, flags of peace in every village, above every door. There would be no more fighting, and all disagreements were to be settled by the respective village chiefs, clan leaders if necessary, following consultation with _Heda_ and the Conclave, the newly formed democratic governmental body, in Polis.

Initially members of the Conclave were hand selected by _Heda Leksa_ herself, with the guidance of her trusted confidents, chiefly Anya, Chief Indra of TonDC and Gustus. Typically, and unsurprisingly, these members were significant individuals: village chiefs, generals and clan leaders. But, it was Costia, who in the quiet of Lexa’s bedroom, though perhaps it would’ve been accurate to say _their_ bedroom, who suggested that said already selected individuals then be able to put forward people of their own choice for consideration for a seat on the Conclave. A vote would then be cast to determine whether their appeal was successful. Quite simply, a majority vote carried approval, and the raise of Lexa’s hand meant no more than anyone else’s, and although she knew this meant she was playing a dangerous game it earned her the uppermost respect from every seat on the Conclave. It was because of this voting system that the Conclave grew alarmingly in size, so the extent that Lexa had to request a bigger table (a _much_ bigger table) so that everyone could fit round it. But, it also meant that everyone had a voice, even the fishermen, the farmers and the village elders, few though they were. It was because of this that a democracy, rather than a dictatorship finally appeared within realistic grasp, and when Lexa first announced her plans for a _Kongeda,_ Coalition, her proposal was met largely with warmth and enthusiasm. This being said, from some of the representatives present that day who cast their approval it was hard to tell they truly believed in Lexa’s vision or simply wanted peace. Needless to say it was clear, for not one person voted against, the first non-split vote of its history, that despite their disagreements and they were willing to put aside their differences for an attempt at peace.

It was Orion, the leader of the _Validon,_ the Valley clan, who wasted no time once the agreement on a Coalition had been settled amongst all of the clans south of the Northern Mountains of _Rockru_ territory, to highlight the pressing issue of the Northern Alliance, and their lack of contribution to the Conclave thus far.

“How do you plan to bring the clans of the Northern Alliance around to this Coalition, _Heda?”_ he asked, met with pointed looks and murmurs of agreement from the other representatives seated around the Conclave table.

Lexa was glad that Costia had approached her with the same question the night before. Gaia knows what she would do without her _hodgadainer_ these days. She almost always ran any issues she encountered past her, encouraged her to share her thoughts, even though, strictly speaking bigger issues discussed by the Conclave were to be kept within the four walls between which they were discussed. Costia, however, was having none of this. She had quite rightly pointed out that, with odd rumours circling around about their relationship that requesting a seat on the Conclave would cause numerous problems, and so that was out of the question. And so it being routine that they discussed matters in private, although not always. A healthy balance.

“I am glad you brought up the matter, _Orinon._ This was in fact, the next topic of debate I wanted to bring forth to you all.”

She paused, choosing her words with care.                                      

“The Conclave will not be complete, and nor can we claim to stand for what we do, without the participation of _all_ clans. The rift which had grown between our own clans and the clans of the Northern Alliance has been, without question, detrimental. We have all lost loved ones, good people, to the fighting amongst us. And to what end, I ask you? What has been gained?”

Lexa paused again, knowing that she had everyone on board, namely for effect. Nobody offered an answer, and so she proceeded.

“Nothing. Nothing _positive_ has been gained from the years of fighting. And so I stand by the words I said when this Conclave was formed. We are our _strongest_ united; undivided and equal. I propose this: three messengers will be sent, under the protection of the white flag, to just beyond the territory of the _Validon._ There lies an encampment, a stronghold of Northern Alliance, consisting predominately of _Sankru_ and _Rockru._ Under the name of truce I will request that the _Azgeda, Sankru_ and _Rockru_ send three representatives each to a Council of Peace in order to discuss their role in the _Kongeda._ ”

There is a shocked silence.

“ _Heda…”_ Luna, leader of the Floukru, begun. “With all due respect…”

“You may speak freely, Luna,” Lexa responded.

“ _Heda_ you expect us to willingly welcome the Northern Alliance into peace talks, putting us all at risk for the sake something they may not even agree to?”

“I do not anticipate that the negotiations will be easy by any means. And for such reasons of I will not demand that all of you are present for talks, unless you do so of your own free will.”

“May I make a suggestion, _Heda?”_ a greying haired man, with tanned skin asked from the other end of the table. Lexa recognised him immediately, thanking herself for learning all of the representatives by name.

“ _Lukien kom Kusoribergeda,”_ Lexa addressed him. _“_ Of course you may voice your suggestion. Speak true.”

“I agree with the fears of Luna’s for our own safety at these talks. Would it, perhaps, be an idea to issue a ban on weapons during such negotiations, to minimise the chances of, by Gaia forbid, a violent outbreak?”

“But surely that would be something _we_ would also have to adhere to? How would we defend ourselves if the situation demanded it?” Indra counter-argued.

“Such a ban as _Lukien_ suggests would mean no such situation would arise,” Lexa responded.

“ _Sha,_ but how can you guarantee they adhere your request? Are we going to search them?”

“ _Sha,”_ Lexa replied simply. “Search _everyone_ on arrival.”

To this proposal there was some discontent, but a majority vote was carried all the same, knowing that there was no real other way around the issue.

“ _Heda,_ where are you planning the location for these talks to be? I do not believe it wise for them to be held here, in Polis,” an elder from a _Floukru_ village, Esther, pointed out.

“That I agree with, _Esta._ Trust must be built up, earned, and not heedlessly given. With the permission of the _Validon_ I would like to hold these negotiations at their House of Council. I ask this of you and your clan, _Orinon,_ because your lands are predominately peaceful, and strategically because all the major trade routes from the Northern Clans cross your territory…”

“And so by holding the a Council of Peace in my lands near such routes would remind them why a good relationship with my clan is essential, and now to the Coalition by extension,” Orion finished.

Lexa nodded.

“Exactly so.”

“I converse with my people, but I can assure you, _Heda,_ that news of their agreement will reach you by nightfall.”

Orion picked up his cup of water, raising it, everyone else following suite.

“For the Coalition,” he toasted.

“For the Coalition!” everyone chanted back.

Lexa hadn’t been expecting that, and she even caught Anya’s eye and saw her _smile._

“Conclave dismissed,” Lexa said. “We will meet again tomorrow for final preparations for the Council of Peace with the northern clans.”

 

 

It took more hours than Lexa would admit, except perhaps to Costia, to write and keep re-writing the message that was to be sent to the Northern Alliance. It wasn’t that Lexa wasn’t intellectually capable by any means, in fact she was surprisingly well read of the old classics for their dystopian times, but it was the struggle between asserting herself enough as _Heda_ and being diplomatic, which up until now had been two very different things indeed. 

It already quite late in the evening, already well past dusk and the inky black sky clear and starry over Polis, when there was a gentle knock at Lexa’s door, and with the fuse of her patience already dangerously close to burning out she snapped, “ _Sha?”_

 _“Em bilaik Kostia, Heda,”_ came Costia’s voice quietly in _Trigedasleng_ , wary of her _hodgadainer’s_ current frustration, as opposed to short temperedness as it would have been with the previous _Heda_. No, that was not a quality that her Lexa processed. She didn’t have angry outbursts or not make rash decisions (at least not yet).

Costia opened the door a crack, popping her head in, before Lexa could say a word in response. She was dressed for the cold, in the hooded cloak that used to be her father’s, dark brown verging on black in tone, several mismatched layers beneath and boots which sported a dusting of snow, yet to melt.

“ _Hei,”_ she said with a small smile. “Can I come in?”

Lexa nodded, putting down her quill.

“Of course, _beja.”_

Costia shut the door gently behind her and made her way to kiss Lexa on the forehead before standing in front of the burning fire, cherishing the warmth and welcoming feeling back into her extremities.  

“Ah,” she hummed contently. “That’s nice.”

“Oh I see. You’re just here for my fire,” Lexa joked. “I see where your priorities lay, _Kos.”_

“Do be quiet, _Leksa._ When my fingers feel like they are going to fall off then _sha,_ by Gaia, the fire gets priorities…”

Costia padded back over to Lexa, leaning over her shoulder and slipping her hands around her shoulders

“You still want me to have all my fingers, right?” she whispered against Lexa’s neck.

Lexa groaned, half in arousal and half in frustration still.

“By Gaia, Kos, I am trying to write this message, _beja._ ”

“Shouldn’t have invited me in, then,” Costia laughed, squeezing Lexa’s shoulders and kissing her cheek.

“I didn’t! You invited yourself in.”

“ _Bas._ Now come on, in all seriousness let’s take a look at this message shall we?”

And so the pair of them spent the next few hours putting together the message, Costia making suggestions and edits here and there, stringing together phrases and lines from all of Lexa’s discarded drafts she’s screwed into balls. After their eyelids had grown heavy and they’d fallen asleep atop the bed clothes, still fully dressed, the message read as follows:

_For the attention of the presently allied Azegeda, Rockru and Sankru,_

_I, Heda Leksa, request your presence in order to make a proposition of unity, a Coalition of all clans, to put an end to the bloodshed._

_Thus far all clans, aside from yourselves, have shown their approval of such a Coalition, and have been granted seats on the Conclave so that they may have direct involvement with the affairs of our lands. At this Council of Peace, each Coalition clan will send three representatives, and so I permit you to do the same: three representatives from each of the respective clans of your current agreement. However, they_ must _come unarmed, for this is a Council of Peace, and not of War. There will be_ no _fighting. Failure to adhere to this simple request, as_ all _other representatives have agreed to do, will_ not _be without consequence. These talks are for the sole purpose of laying to rest our currently heedless conflicts so that we, and our children, shall be able to live in a better world at dawn._

_Let us be the catalyst for a new, better, chapter in our history._

_The location shall be the House of Council, Validon territory, in five days’ time from your receiving of this message at noon._

_Heda Leksa_

Once approval of the message had been given by the Conclave the three messengers to be sent into _Rockru_ lands were carefully selected, after extensive discussion and debate around the, the air growing warm and uncomfortable after the many hours the representatives were stuck in there still dressed for the winter months.

The first messenger was in fact volunteered for the job as opposed to selected: Orion’s personal messenger of the _Validon,_ a woman of a calm temperament and extensive messaging experience named Deryn. She would also act as a familiar face to any officials they encountered once they reached the encampment, having carried messages into the lands of all of the three alliance clans numerous times. This also meant that she was probably one of the few members of any of the Southern clans who knew the trails leading through the rocky _Rockru_ land as well as she knew the back of her own hand. But, it would be foolish to ignore that, being _Validon,_ was also a symbol of peace itself, for the Valley clan formally consisted of farmers and those who dedicated their lives to the worship of Gaia, Mother Earth herself, and so they were a peaceful clan indeed. They weren’t to be underestimated, though; they more than made up for their lack of brute force due to a small army with their wealth of survival knowledge, being the only successful clan to routinely grow crops that survived the winter. Consequently, this meant that they frequently provided for the Northern Clans during the harsher months where they were unable to provide for themselves, or ran out of supplies. The Northern clans would do well to remember that when the _Validon_ messenger and her trio crossed the bounder into their lands.

Next was Obasi of _Kusoribergeda_ , the River Clan, an acclaimed fisherman who, it was said, had gained the thick white scar, which danced from his above his right eye diagonally down his face and through his lip, from battling a radioactive river serpent with teeth as sharp as fangs of vampires from the tales of old.  Though it might have seemed odd to send a fisherman, of all people, to help deliver such an important message and across perilous lands, Obasi was chosen for strategic purposes. A plan had been devised that, should the Peace Council flounder and fighting break out, _Heda’s_ warriors, posted readily in surrounding villages, would draw the Northern Alliance southwards, towards the river fork at the junction which lay three fold between the valley of the _Validon_ to the north, the _Trikru_ to the south and the _Kusoribergeda_ to the west. Here, in these lands and frequently wild waters, Lexa’s warriors would certainly have the advantage. This was where Obasi came in. As seasoned as he was in his livelihood he knew not only the river which snaked through his own land, but the central river from which it stemmed through the northern valley of the _Validon._ This would enable Obasi to judge were would be best to guide the warriors of the Northern Alliance, depending on the strength and direct of the river current, the weather conditions as well as the size of the alliance’s warrior population and their weaknesses. Obasi, for all intense and purpose was the essential brains of the Conclave’s back up plan, their eyes and ears of the watery lands.

The final member of the trio of messengers was Ember, Lexa’s sister herself. An obvious decision, really, when you took into account her experience on the battle field as well as the intelligence work she had done, essentially spying, very successfully I might add, on other clans on numerous occasions during the political unease of, essentially, the last decade ever since it had first begun to raise its head, and the water had started to boil. It was because of this, and knowing the extent of her capabilities, which could not be said for the majority of the Conclave (for isn’t the whole point of a spy for their spying to remain secret?) that Lexa did not worry unduly about her older sister. She was more than able to look after herself, and the fact that few realised of Ember’s connection to the young _Heda,_ one of the few reasons to be thankful for the ten years between them, would also play in her favour. Lexa still worried, though, as anyone would for the sibling they held so dear, but getting the message to the Northern Alliance, and learning as much as possible while they were there was absolutely paramount, and Ember was easily the best for the job.

It really couldn’t be stressed just how important persuading the clans of the Northern Alliance to join the _Kongeda_ was _,_ with the _Rockru_ in particular. With their lands stretching throughout the Northern Mountains and beyond maintaining a good relationship with them meant a greater likelihood of ending the tension rife between the _Azgeda_ and _Heda,_ as the Ice Nation’s ongoing conflict between their royalty and every incarnation of _Heda_ was the predominant reason for the evolution of the political unease which gripped their Grounder lands, and quite honestly, Lexa believed at any rate, that the Ice Nation Queen and convinced the _Sankru_ and _Rockru_ to join her cause with empty promises of all sorts. Not only this, but the _Rockru_ were a large clan indeed, mostly consisting of miners carving essential minerals from deep within the mountains; metals as well as minerals of wealth and jewels. They were the backbone of the Grounder trade market, and coupled with their undoubted wealth this made them hugely influential. Even the purest and most honest of men could be swayed to their bidding with the temptation of wealth, and with it power. This was how the _Sankru_ had been drawn into the Northern Alliance, trapped in the silk web they lay, bribing them, knowing they’d take anything that was to offer, for, regrettably, due to their location the _Sankru_ were largely poverty stricken, relying almost solely on scavenging. Many of them, because of this, either sought out Polis for a better life, of the City of Life itself, and those who set off to trek across the Dead Zone, well, they were never heard of again, which said about as much as needed to be said on the matter.

 

Two days had passed since the message had been received, with reports confirming that Deryn, Obasi and Ember were safely residing in the village where the House of Council stood, prepping for their arrival and the subsequent Council of Peace. If anything Lexa was just surprised that the Northern Alliance had agreed to this, and it did not aid the bundle of restless knotted nerves in her stomach, nor the suspicion gnawing at the back of her skull.

The sun was young in the sky when she, a third of her officials and the smallest handful of warriors they could risk being displayed to Polis, without the danger of the true meaning of their accompanying becoming common knowledge, knowledge that somehow, Lexa feared and knew all too well, could reach the Northern Alliance, gathered by the city’s gates. She mounted her stallion, Pine, with ease, ignoring the best she could the bundle of knotted nerves in her chest, and so, needless to say, she was alarmed to see Costia standing amidst the warriors when she glanced over her shoulder.

Costia’s gaze was utterly calm, tranquil as a still lake, when their eyes met, the yin to the yang of the subtle panic etched into the way Lexa’s nostrils flared and the muscles of her jaw clenched. Fortunately for them, for now at least, nobody, except Anya of Gustus, knew the subtleties of Lexa’s countenance as well as she, and so to the rest of the modest gathering their Commander’s alarm went unnoticed.

“What are you doing?” Lexa mouthed, just pronounced enough for Costia to read the movement of her lips.

Costia merely drew her own sword a little out of her scabbard, the pale metal glinting in the early morning sun, as a justification. It was then Lexa also noticed that some of men and women she stood with were not her warriors.

 _Of course_ , Lexa thought. How could she have been so stupid? Was it not the duty of _Heda_ to think logically?

It had been suggested in the last Conclave meeting that it would be wise for a small band of blacksmiths to accompany them to villages, as a precaution to ensure they were weapons ready, should a battle be provoked. Not thinking that Costia would be one of the blacksmiths recruited Lexa had agreed to this suggestion, in her false comfort of this massive oversight, and let Anya take care of the organisation and logistics. Also, it wasn’t like Lexa had had a spare moment to see Costia since the meeting either, so that Costia might mention something of the fact, and Costia had been busy too; now Lexa understood why.

But, there wasn’t anything Lexa could do in her moment of realisation without making a scene, without it being obvious that there was something between them. _Heda_ does not show any preferential treatment. To do so would be foolish. Not only this, but so far Lexa had done remarkably well, to her own pleasant surprise and pride, to gain the trust and faith of her warriors, but the slightest indication that her focus was elsewhere could very easily tip the balance.

It was becoming ever clearer that not on was a _Heda’s_ duty to fight battles, but also to know which battles could not be fought; and it seemed that this was one of them.

Lexa just prayed that nothing went wrong, for if anything happened to Costia on this journey it would be her responsibility… and she didn’t think she would ever be able to forgive herself.

(Love is a dangerous game to play).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Please don't hate me, but I don't think you need me to tell you that it is coming soon now.)
> 
> Please let me know if you find any mistakes. This work is un-betaed, which is unfortunate because reading though the previous chapters I've discovered I cannot proof-read for well, anything at all. 
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Validon- Valley Clan  
> Rockru- Rock Clan  
> Sankru- Desert Clan  
> Kongeda- Coalition  
> hodgadainer- female lover  
> Kusoribergeda- River Clan  
> Em bilaik- It is...  
> Hei- Hello 
> 
> Comments and kudos always welcome. I can also be found lurking on tumblr praisethefkingbees endlessly reblogging Clexa trash because I apparently have no better way of spending my time.


	9. ice not to numb, but to destroy

Over the course of several days, a more substantial number of Lexa’s warriors had gathered in _Validon_ territory than those who had orginally rode out with her on her departure from the capital. They were discreetly scattered in odd settlements and villages along the river, welcomed without question and with grace of not only the Valley Clan, but the _Kusoribergeda_ too, for large numbers of the River People lived permanently in the lands which were, officially, that of the Valley; the boundaries between them were blurred in friendliness and good history. It was such a relationship which existed between the _Validon_ and _Kusoribergeda_ that Lexa hoped, prayed, could be established between the clans of the _Ko_ _ngeda._  

It was on the third day that Lexa found herself standing outside the House of Council in silence, the air of the valleys still fresh from the cool morning, cold as she inhaled it into her lungs. Despite the odd serenity of the atmosphere which hugged its outer walls, Lexa was distinctly aware of the weight of the significance of this day on her shoulders. In another time, another universe perhaps, parallels could be drawn between she and the Titan Atlas, punished for leading Kronos’s great army against the Ancient Greek gods by carrying the world on his shoulders.

(Little did she know that hundreds of miles away, out of sight in the sky, there was a young man who had once shared a loving passion for the Myths of Old.)

The House of Council was one of the few buildings outside of the walls of Polis whose foundations had been built during the times of before, standing the tests of the apocalypse and, since, the battering of the elements and seemingly endless times of war. Not too dissimilar to the _pla den Hopen,_ it’s exterior was off white it colour, faded with age, peeling and cracked in places, and moss and lichen had long since taken hold, building their own little kingdoms amongst the crevices and between the vines which snaked up its columns. Peace is what it symbolised, and this was the exact reasoning behind the decision to hold such talks within its walls, for this is what Lexa strived to forge, from the blood stained earth of the battlefields.

Usually, her Flamekeeper, Titus, would accompany her to councils of such importance, as her most trusted and respected advisors, formally at any rate. Instead, at present, Titus was watching over the smooth running of Polis in the _Heda’s_ absence, and in his place, next to Lexa as she stood on those steps was Anya, her former first from the time when Lexa first discovered she was a _natblida._ Anya may have had fewer years of political experience than Titus, who had served several _Hedas_ before Lexa and knew all too well the traditions and expectations of her rule, but Anya was the one the advisor who knew her best for who she was as a person, not who she was expected to be. Lexa was never one to comply with the rules, even during her training as a _natblida_ second, especially when the rules could be bettered. She also had a habitat is always being right, and being as stubborn as the trees of her clan’s land were enduring of the elements until things were the way she wanted them to be, whether that was with the rules, with herself or with helping others. In particular, Anya could recall the time well when Lexa, who was no older than seven summers gave up the precious few hours she had free from training to help the surrounding villages collect firewood in one of the harshest winters they had ever seen. Or when she had held the hand of a boy who had gotten trapped in acid fog without shelter as he took his final breaths. Or the countless times Lexa had stood back up again having been knocked down into the mud during her training, embodying _ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim_ to the very last drop of her energy, and sometimes even after that. 

As for the other two remaining seats as _Trikru_ representatives, they were filled by the likes of Ember, and Indra, the chief of TonDC. Between the three of them, Anya, Ember and Indra presented an intimidating _Trikru_ front; certainly not one to be underestimated or overly lenient during the negotiations which were to follow. With their collective experience in both war and politics, they would be able to not only stand their ground, but also take their clan’s best interests to heart and listen to their heads with the ease at which a fish swims in water.

The representatives of _Rokru, Sankru_ and _Azgeda_ arrived in due course as expected, and are searched, stripped of their weapons, as they had been informed they would be, before entering the House of Council. However, despite the fact that they were in full awareness of the disarming which would occur, there is some disdain from one of the Ice Nation representatives, which Lexa handled with ease quickly and painlessly, though she suspected that the pride of the representative was a little dented by her verbal expectation for the _Azgeda_ prince, Roan, to comply with the same rules as all the other representatives; that his royal status, alike Anya’s as the _Trikru_ princess, grants him no special treatment. 

(Lexa ignored the temptation to break the arrogant man's nose, or at least spit in his face, for he was the one who had run his sword through the chest of the  _Heda_ spirit's pervious host.)

As much as she would have liked to have trusted the three clans the way she trusted in the _Trikru_ representatives, Lexa had strategically placed her troops in five nearby towns and villages surrounding the House of Council; should anything go wrong they were there as a safety net, even if their mere presence were a bit of a gamble, but in such uncertain new political territory Lexa could not afford to aloof. As an added precaution, a generous number of scouts were disguised, poised and ready to report any suspicious behaviour to their respective acting captains at pre-determined outposts.

Costia was also at one of these outposts, in a seemingly insignificant settlement along the river in which mostly _Kusoribergeda_ resided, in the care of those, Lexa had been assured, were good people. She recalled the last words they had exchanged vividly as Lexa bade the representatives, now fully disarmed, welcome to the House of Council, but not in an overly good natured manner in maintenance of the stoic Commander she would soon be known for.

_I’ll be just fine, Leksa. No place could be safer._

_That does not mean I am not concerned, Kostia._

_Don’t let the worry of my presence cloud your mind, Leksa. This is not about me. This is about you, your Coalition and vision for peace. You have a real chance here to change the way we live, and to end these bitter wars. I believe in you._

Costia had also given her a piece of shoulder armour, crafted by her own hand. She said that she’d hoped to save it until after the Council of Peace, but found it more fitting to gift it to her lover now.

 _To protect you,_ she had said, before placing a quick chaste kiss on Lexa’s lips in the comfortable seclusion of Lexa’s tent.

(What the pair had not noticed in their rose tinted lovers haze was a sinister figure lurking in the shadows of the trees watching the Commander’s tent. A figure who had not failed to notice Costia’s entrance, and the subsequent dismissal of even the Commander’s most personal of guards.)

As Lexa and the representatives of both the Coalition clans and the clans of the Northern Alliance sat in creaking chairs positioned around the central room of the House of Council, which in days gone past had seen great balls and masquerades and a glistening chandelier of unspeakable value, there was a distinct sense of anticipation in the air laced with unease. It made the hairs on the back of Lexa’s neck stand to attention. Even the truces of the Coalition clans were tentative at best, forged for the sake of progress and not without their own difficulties. Some prejudices were so deep rooted in mistrust and grief- both things which were not easy to forget and forgive- and many such conflicts ran so deep into their history that many would say the fighting between them began before they were born. In truth, the true reason which had sparked their original battles had long been forgotten.

As she surveyed the room, waiting with patience of the low whispers to settle, she realised that _this_ was history itself in the making; this gathering was the largest of its kind with members of all twelve clans present. Many of the clan representatives were also those who held seats at Lexa’s table of Coalition, a fact which she hoped would encourage the clans of the Northern Alliance to comply and respect the demands which would soon be asked of them to ensure that they too had equal input in the governing of Grounder lands. However, Lexa had so cleverly ensured that the three faces of the original messengers who had carried the original summons into Northern Alliance stronghold, Deryn, Obasi and of course Ember, were present for the purpose of offering friendlier faces to the representatives of the _Rockru, Sankru_ and _Azgeda-_ or as friendly as the faces of the Southern clans could appear in such times.

Lexa wasn’t usually one to seek assistance of the Great Spirit herself, Gaia,  _Nomon Ersogaia,_ usually preferring to place her faith in things she could see and touch, but this… this was different. This could alter the very course of their history; change the tides.

And so _Heda Leksa_ found herself praying for hope, for peace, and for the safety of her people.

(For the most part _Nomon Ersogaia_ listened to the young _Heda’s_ selfless plea. Somethings, indeed, could be changed. Others could not; the fates of some individuals are fixed; some to earn greatness, some to have greatness thrust upon them and others… to never achieve such greatness, for one reason or another.)

As the Council of Peace proceeded with surprising and welcome progress, Costia was just were Lexa had last seen her in the _Kusoribergeda_ village of _Coeurdevali,_ meaning _heart of the valley,_ presumably named because of the village’s snug location almost precisely in the middle of the Great Valley which dominated the lands of the _Validon._ Yet the settlement namely consisted of _Kusoribergeda_ because of the river which snaked through its long grasses and reeds, and _Kusoribergeda_ were the inland freshwater fishing tribe.

Naturally, having been born half _Flokru,_ Costia felt at ease with the fishing activities of the village, the casting of rods and nets and the carefully calculated sailing of small boats around the ebb and flow of the river’s currents, even in the weather still cool this far north of Polis. This being said, the villagers, especially the children who took a particular interest in this newcomer, went to extensive efforts to show Costia the meadows and the views of the rolling green hills, which showed the earliest signs of spring. Even the ancient willow tree, whose branches hung over a slow flowing part of the river, dipping into the water, had started to grow its catkins in preparation for the oncoming warmer months.

It was among the excited and eager smiles of the young ones that Costia was introduced to Juden, a boy of no more than ten summers with a quiet, but thoughtful and observant demeanour, the blacksmith’s apprentice. At least, Juden _had_ been the blacksmith’s apprentice until his tutor and lone worker of his craft had passed on not too long ago. Now, _Coeurdevali_ and the other villages nearby were without a blacksmith. Learning this, Costia had immediately suggested that she train him a little more while she was in the village and then, on her return to Polis, arrange for his training to be completed. Perhaps she would take Juden with her to the capital as her own apprentice, or maybe she’d take up a slightly more permanent residence in _Validon_ territory and establish a school of blacksmiths for the middle clans. Just how many other villages, towns, and even whole tribes were without such vital skilled workers, just as Lexa had told her than her brother, Nyko, was the only current fully trained healer of the _Trikru?_  

She made a mental note to discuss such things with Lexa when she saw her _hodgadainer_ again. It wouldn’t be long, after all. A day, perhaps two at most.

It was mid-afternoon, the warm sun beginning to withdraw from the day over the horizon of green hills which stretched as far to the west as they did in every other direction, being situated at the base of the Great Valley. Costia had been sitting comfortably in a quiet clearly of an uncultivated field just a few minutes’ walk from village centre, surrounding by grasses and flowers which would have reached up to her knees were she standing, fine tuning Juden's fundamental base knowledge of the metals and elements available to a blacksmith, their tools, for some things were more easily learnt outside of the dark smoky walls of the forge, when a gaggle of youngsters, interrupted them. They said they wanted to teach Costia who to make a crown of garlands, which were in fact glorified twists and wraps of the grasses and flowers she sat amongst. She could hardly refuse, not with those pleading innocent eyes, eager for attention and praise. Besides, in just a short space of time Juden had already proved that he had the early makings of a great blacksmith, with his patience, focus and quiet determinination. All essential qualities to lead a successful livelihood in their trade, though Costia admitted to herself that, if anything, it was prudence she lacked most of these qualities.

 _Perhaps we could both benefit from this; learn something from each other,_ she thought.

The children were patient with her, as all teachers should be of their students regardless of their age. It took a little while for Costia to grasp that, indeed, the interweaving of grasses and flowers required a much more delicate hand than the often heavy hand of a blacksmith. This was a different kind of care than what was needed when carving the pattern of a sword’s handle into metal, even when it was still warm and pliable from the flames. At first the wrapping and twisting movements were somewhat alien to her charred, rough, hands, but eventually she reached the point where she could make the simplest of bracelets and have it proudly declared by a youngling more than half her age as merely _passable._ She’d chuckled and that, and laughed harder when she saw the expert work of the many little hands which had weaved her a crown in the same space of time, in comparison to her own handiwork.

Their ambushers gave them no warning; no cry of attack, no snapping of a twig underfoot. Their faces were concealed from view with that masks warriors usually wore on the battlefields, their dresses bearing no clan colours or fashions… they may as well have been nobodies.

But they weren’t.

Even with Costia’s skills with a blade, even she could not fend them off single handily, for they were more seasoned in combat that she and each easily twice her size, and they outnumbered her an unpleasant ratio to one. They made no delays, each taking one of the children who had gathered to only make flower garlands, including Juden, who did, at least, manage to catch his ambusher in the mouth with his elbow, a bloody tooth falling amongst the blades of long grass, before he found himself with his arms clenched behind his back and completely helpless. The world stopped spinning just long enough for him to see Costia knock one of them down to the ground and slit their throat.

It was the first time that Juden, or any of the other children, and seen death in such a way, in such violence. The generally peaceful life of the _Kusoribergeda_ and their close relations with the _Validon_ had granted them that… until now.

Finding herself utterly surrounded, and any chances of fighting her way out reduced to dust, Costia dropped her weapon when it was demanded of her. She could cry for help, but the village inhabitants were just a little too far away to come to her aid quick enough; even with the _Kongeda_ warriors she had accompanied to the village’s welcoming arms she and the children would be dead and the bounty hunters, for then that is what she assumed they were, the clan-less and the banished stealing to make a living, with their lack of anything much to identify a clan, gone as quickly as they came.

“Come with us, or the boy dies,” came the gruff, harshly accented voice of the attacker who pressed a rusty blade against the pulsing jugular vein in Juden’s neck.

Costia’s heart barely skipped a beat in handing herself over. What other choice did she have? Let them kill Juden, and undoubtedly the others too, before they took her?

She’d already killed her father, and she wasn’t going to let these innocent children die out of her own selfishness and fear.

The attacker released Juden, only to then be held back by one of the others as he attempted to fight as his attacker went for Costia instead. She was quickly gagged and her hands bound before they beat her and knocked her unconscious. The cries and shrieks of the children were loud enough to raise the alarm back in the village, but by the time Lexa’s warriors had reached the scene they were only met by the dead and a field of slaughter- one dead attacker, and all the children, including Juden, also dead; their throats slit and sticky blood pooling onto the grass.

Their bodies were still warm when their families came running and wept, and Costia's lovingly crown, weaved by those small hands who had not known her long at all, fallen from her head, lay discarded beside them, trampled on and flattened without a care. 

Upon the unmasking of the fallen attacker by _Coeurdevali_ chief, Lizabet, it was discovered that the attackers had not been bounty hunters or the clan-less at all. The distinctive branding along the cheekbones of the fallen fighter were unmistakable.

“ _Azgeda."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel horrible for leaving this so long. I can't apologise enough really. What can I say? Life happened and series three... well, it was good until it wasn't and everything went into a massive pile of shizzle. 
> 
> In light of this, there are now a lot of inaccuracies regarding Grounder culture. And so, I ask you, should I amend these to match the canonverse, or continue in my own way? Which would you prefer?
> 
> Things are coming to a head now. We all know what the result is... but how? That is the question. And I am afraid you already know it isn't going to be nice. I had hoped to write this fic with a little more light, but apparently that's not happening. However, rest assured that the deaths of season three are going to be ignored and, despite the ever climbing death toll of this fic, nobody unnecessary is going to get killed, I can promise you that. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always. Please let me know your thoughts so far in the comments, hearing from you guys truly does make my day. 
> 
> Hope you are all having a great day wherever you are, 
> 
> Lucy 
> 
> \---
> 
> Translations for this chapter:
> 
> Nomon Ersogaia- Mother Earth  
> Jus drein, jus daun- blood must have blood.  
> Coeurdevali- Heart of the Valley  
> natblida- nightbleeder


End file.
